■  >ixttn«r!i$aanUM%i. . 


S^  i^vidmd seaming  ^^^^ 

Boston  (gazette 


5  — '  l/'c'^^ 


%\ 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/fateofmadamelatoOOpaddiala 


SOME  OPINIONS. 


"A  dramatic  tale." — Providence  Star. 

"  Powerfully  written." — Rochester  Express. 

9 

'*  The  fascination  of  thrilling  fiction." 

—  Cincinnati  Commercial. 


"  We  only  wish  every  cultivated  woman  in  the  na- 
tion could  read  it." — Chicasro  Inter-Ocean. 


"A  vivid  and  startling  picture  of  the  people  and  the 
manners  with  which  it  deals." — Boston  Gazette. 


"  Gives  fresh  and  breezy  pictures  of  the  pioneer  life 
of  those  days,  and  portrays  the  ideas,  principles,  and 
modes  of  life  among  the  Mormons." 

— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"Not  only  literature  but  statesmanship  of  a  high 
order.  .  •  .Marked  by  a  temperateness  of  language  and 
a  reserve  of  feeling  which  give  it  all  the  more  effect. 
.  .  .  .The  facts  given  in  her  Notes  buttress  her  narra- 
tive against  all  question.  The  story  itself  fires  the 
imagination." — Boston  lAterary  World. 


"Thrilling  enough  to  interest  the  most  exacting 
lover  of  fiction,  while  solemn  enough  in  its  facts  and 
in  its  warnings  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  most 
serious  statesman." — The  Critic,  New  Tork. 


The  Fate  of 
Madame  La  Tour 


A  Tale  of  Great  Salt  Lake 

h 
Mrs.  A.  G.  Paddock 


NEW  YORK 

Fords^  Howard  ^  Hulbert 

igoo 

i 
TENTH  THOUSAND 


CorraisaT,  1881. 
rORDS,  HOWABO,  *  HCLBBKr. 


PUBLISHER'S   NOTE. 


The  story  of  Madame  La  Tour  is  strange  enough  for 
thrilling  fiction ;  but  the  facts  underlying  it  cannot  die,  and 
the  intense  public  interest  in  Mormonism,  by  reason  of  its 
appearance  in  Congress,  makes  this  picture  of  the  sources 
of  that  strange  alien  element,  in  the  midst  of  a  republic 
professedly  Christian  and  civilized,  well  worth  reading  by 
the  millions  who  have  been  recently  startled  into  a  new 
attention  to  the  "  problem  "  which  still  seems  to  exist. 

Within  eighteen  years  much  has  happened  in  Utah. 
Outward  forms  have  changed.  How  about  the  interior 
spirit  ? 

In  March,  1882,  Congress  passed  the  Edmunds  Law, 
which  disfranchised,  removed  from  office,  and  otherwise 
punished  polygamists,  provided  for  legitimatizing  the  chil- 
dren of  polygamous  marriages  born  before  January  i,  1883, 
and  put  the  elections  under  control  of  a  commission  of 
five  members — one  of  whom  was  Hon.  A.  S.  Paddock,  a 
Territorial  Secretary  and  ex-United  States  Senator  from 
Nebraska,  and  a  long-time  Gentile  resident  of  Utah,  whose 
wife  wrote  this  book.  In  1887  Congress  greatly  restricted 
suffrage  in  Utah,  and  confiscated  much  property,  both  real 
and  personal,  of  the  Mormon  Church. 

On  October  6,  1890,  after  more  than  a  thousand  polyga- 
mists had  served  terms  in  the  penitentiary,  the  Mormon 
Church  issued  a  manifesto,  discountenancing  polygamy,  and 
calling  on  its  adherents  to  obey  the  laws  of  the  United 
States.  This  was  followed,  January  4,  1893,  by  a  proclama- 
tion  from   President   Harrison,   proffering   amnesty   and 


ir  PUBLISHER'S  NOTE. 

pardon  to  such  as  had  obeyed  and  continued  to  obey  the 
law  since  November  i,  1890.  On  January  4,  1896,  pursuant 
to  action  by  Congress  in  1894,  Utah  was  admitted  as  a 
State  of  the  Union,  having  voted  a  Constitution  strongly 
condemning  polygamy,  and  continuing  the  Territorial  laws 
and  penalties  against  it ;  and  Senators  and  Representatives 
were  duly  elected,  and  served. 

But  in  October,  1897,  President  Woodruff  of  the  Mor- 
mon Church  called  on  Mormons  to  disregard  the  new 
party  ties — for  the  people,  both  Mormons  and  Gentiles, 
had  been  voting  as  Democrats,  Republicans,  etc. — and  to 
vote  together,  as  Mormons,  for  the  election  of  "  good 
men."  How  far  this  was  regarded  cannot  be  known,  but 
at  the  last  elections  Brigham  H.  Roberts,  a  Mormon,  was 
elected  as  a  Democratic  Representative  to  Congress,  and 
on  the  assembling  of  the  Houses,  December  i,  1899,  there 
was  a  strong  protest  made  against  his  even  taking  his  seat 
or  the  oath.  A  popular  petition  to  this  effect  was  presented 
to  Congress,  containing  several  millions  of  signatures,  so 
great  was  the  public  indignation.  The  protest  was  made 
on  the  ground  that  Roberts  had  been  convicted  in  1889  as 
a  polygamist,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  conditions  of  the 
amnesty  of  1893,  he  had  been  ever  since,  and  was  even 
now,  living  in  polygamous  relations.  The  matter  was  re- 
ferred to  a  special  committee.  The  country  has  been  much 
aroused  over  the  incident,  largely  under  the  knowledge 
that  Mormon  missionaries  are  constantly  at  work  enlarging 
the  Mormon  population  by  immigration,  and  the  belief 
that,  under  the  independence  of  Statehood,  the  Mormon 
Church  is  condoning,  if  not  again  encouraging,  polygamy, 
and  even  attempting  to  have  it  represented  in  the  Congress 
of  the  United  States. 

January,  1900. 


LETTERS 

CONCERNING  THE  TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  AUTHOR  OP  THIS 
BOOK. 

From  Governor  Murray. 

Territory  of  Utah,  Executive  Office,   ) 
Salt  Lake  City,  April  i6,  1881,        f 

I  look  with  interest  for  the  publication  of  Mrs.  Paddock's 
promised  book.  Her  writings  attest  her  capacity,  which, 
joined  with  her  long  residence  in  Utah,  and  access  to  reliable 
sources  of  information,  suggest  a  true  story  well  told. 

Eli  H.  Murray, 
Governor, 

From  J.  S.  Boreman,  Esq.,  late  Associate  Justice  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  Utah. 

Salt  Lake  City,  Utah.  April  27,  1881. 

I  learn  with  great  pleasure  that  it  is  the  purpose  of  Mrs.  A. 
G.  Paddock  to  publish  another  volume  giving  some  pictures  of 
life  among  the  Mormons.  I  know  of  no  one  better  qualified  for 
that  work  than  Mrs.  Paddock.  She  has  been  here  for  some 
years,  and  I  know  from  numerous  articles  which  have  appeared 
from  her  pen  and  from  the  active  life  among  these  people  that 
she  has  gathered  a  vast  storehouse  of  information.  ...  I  have 
resided  in  Utah  eight  years,  and  been  on  the  bench  of  the  United 
States  Court  for  seven  and  a  half  years  of  that  time,  and  be- 
lieve that  I  am  tolerably  familiar  with  the  Mormon  system. 

Jacob  S.  Boreman. 


Vi  LETTERS. 

From  Hon.  G.  S.  Black,  Ex- Secretary  of  Utah  Territory. 

United  States  Marshal's  Office,  ) 
Utah  Territory,  >• 

Salt  Lake  City,  April  28,  1881.    J 
Messrs.  Fords,  Howard  &  Hulbert,  Publishers,  New  York 
City: 

Gentlemen  :  I  take  pleasure  in  saying  that  I  have  known 
Mrs.  A.  G.  Paddock  for  the  last  ten  years,  six  of  which  I  was 
Secretary  of  the  Territory.  I  know  of  no  person  in  the  Terri- 
tory who  has  given  the  situation  here,  and  Utah  affairs  in  gen- 
eral, more  study  than  Mrs.  Paddock,  and  her  advantages  for 
gaining  and  ability  in  imparting  information  have  been  the  envy 
of  us  all.  Geo.  S.  Black. 

From  Mrs.  S.  A.  Cooke,  President  Woman's  National  Anti- 
Polygamy  Society. 

Salt  Lake  City,  April  16,  1881. 

I  have  been  a  resident  of  this  city  since  1852,  and  have  been 
personally  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Paddock  since  1871,  and  believe 
she  has  access  to  reliable  sources  of  information  on  matters  con- 
nected with  Mormonism.  She  mentioned  my  name  in  her 
former  book,  "  In  the  Toils,"  as  a  lady  who  had  care  of  two 
boys  saved  from  the  Mountain  Meadow  massacre.  The  eldest 
of  the  two  boys  had  a  perfect  recollection  of  the  scenes  in  that 
most  horrible  tragedy.  I  do  not  think  Mrs.  Paddock  would 
overstate  the  facts  respecting  that  or  many  other  deeds  that 
have  darkened  the  history  of  this  Territory. 

Mrs.  Sarah  A.  Cooks. 

From  John  Greenleaf  Whittier  to  Mrs.  Paddock  on  receipt 
of  a  copy  of  her  former  book  on  Mormonism. 

Danvers,  Mass.,  8  Mo.  18,  1879. 

Dear  Friend  :  I  thank  thee  for  a  copy  of  thy  story  *'  In  the 

Toils."     I  had  read  it  in  the  ^//ia«f^  with  a  deep  and  painful 

interest.     It  seems  scarcely  possible  that  such  a  state  of  society 

as  is  there  depicted  so  graphically  and  forcibly  can  exist  in  our 


LETTERS.  vii 

country.  Yet  all  history  tells  us  that  there  are  no  limits  to  atroc- 
ities and  cruelties  which  even  those  who  are  naturally  good 
and  gentle  may  commit  under  the  influence  of  religious  fanati- 
cism. 

How  to  deal  with  this  great  evil  I  confess  is  to  me  a  difficult 
problem.  While  it  exists  I  trust  that  Congress,  however  demoral- 
ized by  party  politics,  will  not  admit  Utah  as  a  State  into  the 
Union. 

Thy  friend,  * 

John  G.  Whittier. 


PREFACE. 

The  present  tale,  while  following  chiefly  the  fortunes  and 
misfortunes  of  a  single  family  (the  main  incidents  of  which 
are  only  too  truthfully  related),  traces  the  development  of 
the  Mormon  system  in  those  distant  "  valleys  of  the  moun- 
tains," and  shows  some  of  the  ways  and  means  of  its  work- 
ings. I  do  not  pretend  to  tell  the  worst  of  the  doings  of 
the  Saints,  for  no  decent  pen  could  describe  and  no  decent 
reader  would  peruse  the  shocking  facts.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  have  carefully  avoided  all  such  elements  as  would 
tend  to  have  any  corrupting  influence  or  to  offend  the  sen- 
sitive and  pure-minded. 

Louise  La  Tour  is  not  a  creation  of  fancy.  Her  story  is 
true  ;  her  sufferings  were  real ;  but  I  have  only 

"  Hinted,  with  delicate  half-words 
And  scrupulous  reserves, 
What  no  one  scrupled  she  should  feel  in  fall." 

For  my  sources  of  information,  I  have  my  own  personal 
observation  during  a  residence  of  ten  years  in  the  city  of 
Salt  Lake.  I  have  boarded  in  Mormon  families,  have  had 
Mormons  living  in  my  own  family  (though  neither  my  hus- 
band nor  myself  have  ever  been  Mormons),  and  have  had 
Mormon  neighbors  on  every  side.  I  have  also  enjoyed  the 
acquaintance  and  the  confidence  of  many  of  those  who  have 
represented  the  Federal  authorities  here.  My  husband 
has  been  in  the  Territory  since  1858,  and  has  personal 
knowledge  of  many  matters  herein  described.  I  am  es- 
pecially indebted  to  him  for  the  material  of  the  chapters  re- 
lating to  life  in  Oregon  and  California  and  on  the  plains  ; 


X  PREFACE. 

as  he  himself  passed  through  most  of  the  experiences  and 
adventures  there  set  down,  the  pictures  may  be  relied 
upon  as  true  to  life. 

To  myself,  the  construction  of  this  story  out  of  realities 
existing  on  every  side  of  me,  which  far  surpass  in  strange- 
ness and  romance  any  fiction  that  could  be  invented,  has 
been  a  matter  of  intense  interest.  I  cannot  hope  to  have 
done  justice  to  the  materials,  but  if  my  story  shall  succeed 
in  arousing  people  to  think,  and  to  examine  into  the  facts 
of  the  unnatural  problem  of  Mormonism,  I  shall  be 
content. 

Cornelia  Paddock. 

Great  Salt  Lake,  Utah  Ter.,  June  \,  i88i. 


J 


CONTENTS. 

CHArTBR.  'AGK 

I.    The  Advance  Guard 13 

II.    Madame  La  Tour. 22 

III.  Pilgrimage  of  the  Saints 35 

IV.  Mystery  Begins 48 

V.    Celestial  Marriage 62 

VI.      FORTY-NlNERS 75 

II.    The  Brothers 87 

VIII.     The  Prophet's  Profits loi 

IX.    Plans  FOR  Escape 113 

X.    The  Blistering  Desert 125 

XI.    A  California  Gulch 137 

XII.     A  Thousand  Miles  Afoot 154 

XIII.  The  La  Tour  Boys  Again 166 

XIV.  Prayer  and  Sacrifice 175 

XV.    The  Test  of  Loyalty , i86 

XVI.    Plural  Blessedness 197 

XVII.    The  Dead  Tell  Tales 209 


xii  CONTENTS 

CMAPTSK.  PAIS 

XVIII.    The  Lion  and  the  Fox aao 

XIX.    A  MvsTERV  Solved 231 

XX.    The  Sealed  Packet 245 

XXI.    The  Revolt 259 

XXII.    Epilogue 266 

Notes  of  Reference 285  to  310 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  ADVANCE  GUARD. 

In  the  early  spring  of  1847  a  body  of  armed  men  were 
gathered  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Missouri  River.  It  was 
not  the  Missouri  of  to-day,  spanned  by  railroad  bridges, 
plowed  by  steamers,  its  shores  bordered  with  fertile  farms, 
and  dotted  with  cities  and  villages,  but  the  Missouri  of 
thirty-four  years  ago,  wending  its  tortuous  and  solitary 
way  between  high  bluffs  that  echoed  to  the  howl  of  the 
wolf  and  the  war-whoop  of  the  savage. 

Most  of  these  men  wore  the  homespun  dress  of  the  pio- 
neers ;  but  a  few  were  clad  in  the  buckskin  suits  adopted  by 
hunters  and  trappers.  Besides  the  rifles  in  their  hands, 
more  than  half  of  the  company  carried  small  arms  in  their 
belts,  and  to  a  man  their  faces  expressed  a  grim  and  fierce 
determination. 

Viewing  them  thus,  as  they  stood  there  in  the  early 
morning,  the  solitary  bluffs  of  the  Missouri  on  their  right, 
the  boundless,  silent  prairie  on  their  left,  the  spectator,  had 
there  been  one  to  note  this  extraordinary  group,  would 
have  carried  the  picture  away  in  his  memory  as  that  of  a 
band  of  outlaws  about  to  start  on  some  desperate  errand, 
with  but  faint  chances  that  so  many  as  half  their  number 
would  ever  return. 

Still,  there  were  accessories  to  the  picture  which  forbade 
the  supposition  that  they  were  ordinary  brigands,  bound  on 
an  expedition  of  robbery  and  murder. 

A  few  rods  distant  about  fifty  wagons  were  ranged,  some 
of  them  filled  with  supplies  for  a  long  journey,  others  load- 


14  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

ed  with  farming  implements  and  sacks  of  grain,  and  near 
these  wagons  more  than  three  hundred  horses  and  mules 
were  picketed. 

The  men,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  were 
leaning  on  their  rifles  and  listening  to  one  of  the  band,  who 
was  evidently  their  leader. 

He  stood  on  a  little  hillock,  a  few  feet  above  his  auditors, 
whom  his  fiery  words  held  spell-bound.  He  was  in  the 
prime  of  life,  of  medium  stature,  but  powerfully  built,  and 
his  face  bore  the  stamp  of  an  iron  will  to  which  all  must 
bend,  and  of  that  inflexibility  of  purpose  which  annihilates 
all  obstacles.  His  deep-set  eyes  told  of  greed,  both  of 
money  and  power,  as  plainly  as  the  square  mouth  and 
heavy  jaws  revealed  the  savage  in  his  nature,  at  once  sen- 
sual and  cruel. 

He  talked  rapidly,  and  his  diction  was  that  of  a  man  of 
the  people — unpolished,  uncultured,  and  ignorant  of  even 
the  alphabet  of  such  learning  as  is  garnered  in  books,  save 
such  as  he  might  glean  from  the  Scriptures ;  but  his  rude 
and  forcible  eloquence  swayed  his  listeners  as  a  northern 
gale  bends  the  pines,  and  when  from  time  to  time  he  ex- 
claimed, "  You  who  are  with  me,  raise  your  right  hands," 
all  hands  were  uplifted  simultaneously,  as  though  some 
secret  spring  moved  the  whole  company  like  one  man. 

Pointing  eastward,  he  denounced  in  scathing  language 
the  nation  whose  frontier  settlements  lay  beyond  the  river, 
and  invoked  upon  the  people  the  curse  of  famine  and  pes- 
tilence, of  fire  and  sword. 

A  deep  "  Amen"  from  all  his  listeners  answered  him. 

Then  stretching  out  his  hand  toward  the  West,  he  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Yonder,  a  thousand  miles  beyond  the  borders  of  this 
accursed  people,  lies  the  land  that  is  given  to  us  for  an 
inheritance,  and  there  we  will  build  cities,  and  plant  vin«- 


THE  ADVANCE   GUARD.  1 5 

yards,  and  dwell  in  peace,  while  the  vials  of  wrath  are 
being  poured  out  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth." 

He  continued  to  talk  in  this  strain  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  then,  lifting  his  hands,  pronounced  a  benedic- 
tion on  the  armed  band  that  had  echoed  his  curses.  The 
tliscourse  was  apparently  a  preliminary  of  the  real  busi- 
ness of  the  morning,  which  now  began  in  earnest. 

Teams  were  harnessed  and  attached  to  the  wagons,  sin- 
gle horses  saddled,  arms  and  ammunition  looked  to,  and 
the  train  put  in  marching  order,  the  men  being  divided  into 
companies  of  fifties,  and  those  again  into  squads  of  tens, 
each  with  a  captain,  through  whom  the  orders  of  the  chief 
were  carried  out  in  detail.  By  the  time  the  sun  was  well 
above  the  eastern  bluffs,  teams,  horsemen,  and  footmen 
were  moving  westward.  Civilization  was  behind  them,  the 
desert  before  them,  and  a  savage  foe  on  their  route  ;  but 
not  a  man  hesitated  or  faltered.  Faith  in  their  leader, 
and  a  form  of  fanaticism  which  made  them  regard  them- 
selves as  under  the  special  protection  of  Heaven,  sustained 
some  ;  but  others,  and  these  by  far  the  majority  of  the 
company,  were  already  outlaws,  whose  presence  civiliza- 
tion refused  to  tolerate,  and  to  them  the  wilderness  offered 
the  only  safe  refuge. 

Counterfeiting  and  theft  were  the  least  of  the  offences 
laid  to  their  charge.  Many,  if  not  all  of  those  thus  out- 
lawed were  accused  of  the  darker  crimes  of  bigamy,  trea- 
son, and  murder,  and  the  rude  pioneers  of  the  border, 
meeting  violence  with  violence,  and  punishing  glaring  out- 
rages by  mob-law,  had  driven  them  from  their  midst. 

No  fair-minded  historian  will  attempt  to  cover  or  palliate 
a  resort  to  mob-violence.  In  a  country  where  the  courts 
are  open  to  all,  and  where,  as  a  rule,  any  criminal  may  be 
tried  and  punished  according  to  the  established  forms  ot 
law,  those  who  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands  are  inex- 


1 6  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

cusable — and  yet  the  peculiar  circumstances  attending  the 
expulsion  of  this  band  of  outlaws  from  the  community  on 
which  they  had  preyed  make  one  hesitate  to  condemn  with- 
out reserve  those  who  drove  them  out. 

The  company  leaving  the  banks  of  the  Missouri  this 
morning  had  no  fixed  destination.  They  were  scouts 
whose  business  it  was  to  discover  and  take  possession  ot 
some  tract  of  land  that  would  furnish  a  refuge  for  them- 
selves and  those  whom  they  represented,  and  a  home  for 
their  families.  A  few  of  them  may  have  believed  that  their 
chief  would  be  divinely  guided  to  the  spot  that  Heaven  had 
set  apart  for  them — some  Promised  Land,  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey — but  the  greater  number  relied  on  the 
sagacity  of  their  leader,  and  on  a  certain  trapper  and  plains- 
man in  their  ranks  who  knew  the  country. 

The  first  month  brought  them  no  hardships.  The  well- 
watered  plains  of  Nebraska  afforded  abundant  pasture  for 
their  animals,  and  favorable  camping-grounds  for  the  train. 
There  were  no  hostile  demonstrations  on  the  part  of  the 
Indians.  Game  abounded,  and  good  rifles,  in  the  hands 
of  men  who  knew  how  to  use  them,  kept  the  company  sup- 
plied with  meat. 

They  reached  the  crossing  of  the  Platte  in  advance  of 
the  June  freshets,  and  were  therefore  able  to  ford  the 
stream  without  serious  difficulty.  The  river,  not  more 
than  three  fourths  of  a  mile  wide  at  the  crossing,  and  but 
little  more  than  two  feet  in  depth  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
is  yet  a  formidable  stream  to  ford,  for  two  reasons.  It 
runs  with  extraordinary  swiftness,  and  the  fine  white  sand 
in  the  bottom,  packed  hard  by  the  action  of  the  water, 
forms  a  thin  crust  over  the  treacherous  depths  beneath- 
shifting,  dangerous  quicksands,  in  which  the  wheels  of  the 
loaded  wagons  sink  and  cannot  be  withdrawn.  Footmen 
and  horsemen  may  cross  without  danger,  but  if  the  loaded 


THE  ADVANCE   GUARD.  17 

teams  are  allowed  for  any  reason  to  halt,  the  wheels  break 
through  the  thin  crust  of  the  river-bottom,  and  the  wagon 
begins  to  sink — continues  to  sink  until,  in  a  little  while, 
no  force  can  extricate  it. 

In  the  present  company  there  were  plainsmen  familiar 
with  the  crossing,  and  the  method  dictated  by  their  experi- 
ence was  adopted.  The  teams  were  unhitched  from  all 
but  ten  of  the  wagons.  To  each  one  of  these  wagons  four 
teams  were  attached,  and  a  spot  previously  tested  by  the 
horsemen  was  selected  for  crossing.  The  teams  entered 
the  water  in  single  file,  the  drivers  walking  on  the  upper 
side,  with  a  horseman  for  each  team  riding  the  stream  be- 
low. All  the  speed  that  the  swiftness  of  the  current  would 
allow  was  now  made,  to  avoid  the  quicksands,  and  when 
the  last  of  the  ten  wagons  was  safe  on  the  opposite  bank 
the  teams  were  unhitched  and  driven  back  to  aid  in  bring- 
ing the  other  wagons  across. 

Conducted  in  this  manner,  the  fording  of  the  stream  occu- 
pied nearly  the  whole  of  two  days. 

The  teams  attached  to  one  of  the  last  wagons  at  the 
crossing  becoming  unmanageable  in  the  middle  of  the  cur- 
rent, the  driver,  who  walked  beside  them,  was  thrown 
down,  and  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  the  blood  that  trickled 
from  a  wound  above  the  temple  mingled  with  the  stream. 
Was  it  a  foreshadowing  of  the  day,  not  many  years  later, 
when,  tracked  and  followed  by  his  "  brethren"  to  this  same 
river,  his  life-blood  should  stain  its  waters,  and  the  treach- 
erous sands  beneath  become  his  grave  ? 

When  the  train  resumed  its  march,  after  camping  for  the 
night  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  the  one  man  in  the  com- 
pany whose  trapping  expeditions  had  led  him  into  the  re- 
gions beyond,  was  made  their  guide  across  the  vast  ex- 
panse of  rolling  prairie  stretching  westward  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 


1 8  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR 

No  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  or  pillar  of  fire  by  night  was 
vouchsafed  to  lead  them  ;  but,  as  before  stated,  the  ma- 
jority of  this  band  of  scouts  were  men  uninfluenced  by 
fanaticism,  or  any  other  motive  beyond  that  of  placing  a 
safe  distance  between  themselves  and  civilization,  and  the 
buckskin-clad  trapper  who  guided  them  served  their  pur- 
pose quite  as  well  as  an  angel  going  before  them  to  point 
out  the  way. 

Six  years  before  the  time  of  which  we  write,  emigrant 
trains  had  begun  to  cross  these  prairies,  and  the  mountain 
regions  beyond,  on  their  way  to  the  coast,  and  four  years 
previous  to  the  date  of  the  present  exploring  expedition  the 
regular  annual  overland  emigration  to  Oregon  and  Cali- 
fornia began,  so  that  a  trail  which  could  be  easily  followed 
was  already  marked  out,*  and  the  trapper,  who  had  accom- 
panied such  trains  more  than  once,  was  able  to  assist  the 
leader  of  the  band  by  suggesting  the  principal  features  of 
the  "  vision"  which  was  to  decide  the  company  in  their 
choice  of  a  location.  It  was  the  first  of  June  when  they 
reached  the  South  Pass,  a  park  or  mountain  valley  many 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Here,  within 
three  hundred  yards  of  each  other,  are  two  springs,  the 
one  the  source  of  a  little  creek  that,  flowing  eastward,  joins 
itself  to  streams  that  become  tributary  to  the  Missouri, 
finding  thence  an  outlet  by  way  of  the  Mississippi  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  ;  the  other,  the  head-waters  of  a  rivulet 
that  widens  and  deepens  as  the  snows  continue  to  melt 
and  other  rivulets  join  it,  until  it  becomes  a  river,  and  its 
waters,  by  many  and  devious  channels  at  length  reach  and 
mingle  with  the  Pacific. 

In  these  springs  the  leader  of  the  band  found  an  omen 
of  the  destiny  of  himself  and  his  people. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  A,  page  337. 


THE  ADVANCE   GUARD.  '^  19 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  we  leave  the  East  forever — leave  it 
under  a  curse.  We  follow  the  waters  of  this  stream, 
whose  course  is  toward  the  West.  There  is  our  inherit- 
ance. There  we  will  set  up  a  kingdom  that  shall  yet  de- 
stroy and  break  in  pieces  all  the  nations  and  kingdoms  of 
the  earth.  The  land  is  ours,  and  woe  to  the  man  or  the 
nation  that  tries  to  take  it  from  us.  We  will  never  be 
driven  out  again.  From  this  time  forth  it  belongs  to  us  tt 
drive  others  out." 

To  the  few  fanatics  in  the  company  these  words  were  ; 
prophecy— a  message  from  above.  To  the  others  the/ 
were  a  revelation  of  the  ambitious  plans  of  their  leader, 
who  nourished  the  hope  of  setting  up  an  independent  gov- 
ernment somewhere  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Sierras. 

Let  those  who  exclaim  against  the  idea  that  a  plan  fio 
preposterous  could  ever  have  been  seriously  entertained  by 
a  man  possessing  the  known  shrewdness  of  that  leader, 
look  over  the  history  of  the  community  he  ruled,  and  ask 
themselves  the  question  whether,  in  point  of  fact,  it  has 
not  been  an  independent  state  for  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  century. 

Beyond  the  South  Pass  the  train  made  excellent  time. 
The  weather  was  everything  that  could  be  desired  ;  game 
abounded,  their  animals  were  in  good  condition,  and  as  it 
was  yet  early  in  the  season  there  was  no  scarcity  of  water 
or  grass.  At  a  few  points  along  the  route  the  Indians 
showed  faint  signs  of  hostility,  but  by  the  sagacious  man- 
agement of  their  leader  trouble  was  avoided. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  July  when  they  entered  the 
mountain  passes  west  of  Green  River.  Here  the  main 
body  halted  for  a  time,  and  half  a  dozen  picked  men,  guided 
by  the  trapper  before  mentioned,  were  sent  out  to  prospect 
for  a  location  possessing  the  advantages  of  water  and  a 
fertile  soil. 


ao  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

After  a  few  days'  absence  the  scouts  returned  with  good 
news.  They  had  found  the  very  spot  which  their  leader 
assured  them  he  had  seen  in  a  vision — the  site  of  the  future 
kingdom. 

No  time  was  now  to  be  lost.  On  the  very  day  that  the 
scouts  returned  the  train  was  again  put  in  marching 
order,  and  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  the  same  month  the 
whole  company  entered  the  Promised  Land  through  a  wide 
pass  leading  by  a  gentle  descent  into  the  valley. 

They  came  in  through  this  pass  in  the  morning,  and  be- 
fore nightfall  they  had  pitched  their  camp,  taken  formal 
possession  of  the  country,  and  commenced  breaking  the 
soil  for  the  autumn  crops  that  they  proposed  to  put  in. 

The  valley  was  watered  by  a  score  of  mountain  streams, 
which  were  fed  by  the  melting  snows.  The  soil  was  deep 
and  rich,  needing  only  irrigation  to  make  it  immensely  pro- 
ductive, and  with  a  promptness  and  energy  which  prom- 
ised well  for  their  future  success,  a  dam  was  built  at  once, 
and  ditches  dug  as  soon  as  the  seed  was  put  in. 

Then,  as  the  thousand  miles  or  more  which  they  had 
traveled  must  be  retraced  before  winter  set  in,  the  main 
body  hastily  prepared  for  their  homeward  journey,  leaving 
about  thirty  of  their  number  to  hold  possession  of  the  coun- 
try, and  do  what  they  could  toward  building  houses  for  the 
families  that  were  to  come  on  the  next  year. 

There  was  no  timber  for  building  purposes  nearer  than 
the  caflons,  and  to  these  the  roads  had  yet  to  be  made  ; 
but  the  settlers,  profiting  by  the  experience  of  their  Mexi- 
can neighbors,  made  use  of  an  excellent  building  material 
that  they  found  ready  to  their  hands.  In  many  places  near 
the  site  of  the  "  city"  their  leader  had  laid  out,  there  were 
large  tracts  of  the  clay  used  for  making  adobes  or  sun-dried 
bricks.  These  bricks  were  easily  molded,  and,  in  that 
climate,  soon  dry  enough  for  use  ;  and  in  the  absence  of 


THE  ADVANCE  GUARD.  21 

lime  a  serviceable  mortar  was  made  by  mixing  sand  with 
the  mud  of  the  adobe  pits,  and  in  a  little  while,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  the  red  man  who  came  down  from  his  tepee  in  the 
hills  to  interview  the  new  arrivals,  the  walls  of  a  dozen 
cabins  were  taking  form  and  consistence  under  the  busy- 
hands  of  the  colonists. 

Meantime  the  returning  pioneers  were  experiencing  all 
the  hardships  of  travel  on  scanty  rations  over  the  plains 
parched  by  the  heat  of  midsummer.  The  grass  that  made 
such  excellent  pasturage  in  June  was  withered,  many  of 
the  streams  were  dried  up,  and  before  half  their  journey 
was  accomplished  the  rations  they  carried  with  them  were 
so  reduced  that  they  had  to  depend  almost  wholly  on  their 
rifles  for  food.  To  add  to  their  trials,  the  Indians  stole 
many  of  their  horses  and  harassed  them  in  various  ways  ; 
but  they  finally  reached  the  frontier  without  the  loss  of  a 
man,  and  on  the  last  day  of  October  stood  again  on  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri. 


CHAPTER  11. 

MADAME  LA  TOUR. 

Spring  has  come  again  in  the  valley  of  the  Missouri. 
The  vast,  treeless  prairies  on  the  western  shore  are  a  ten- 
der green.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  north,  south,  and 
west,  the  grassy  sea  extends  until  it  meets  and  blends  with 
the  blue  of  the  clear  May  skies. 

About  a  mile  west  of  the  bluff,  and  on  the  north  bank  of 
a  small  stream  that  empties  into  the  river,  there  is  a  settle- 
ment which,  from  the  nature  of  the  buildings  and  the  char- 
acter of  the  surroundings,  is  evidently  temporary,  being 
little  more,  in  fact,  than  the  camp  of  a  people  who  for 
years  have  had  no  certain  dwelling-place.  There  are  a 
large  number  of  rude  log-cabins,  bearing  every  mark  of 
the  haste  with  which  they  were  constructed,  and  of  the 
indifference  with  which  their  owners  regard  them.  The 
logs,  obtained  from  the  cottonwood  grove  on  the  river-bot- 
tom, a  little  to  the  north,  are  still  incased  in  their  native 
bark,  and  the  buildings  are  roofed  with  poles  and  brush, 
held  down  and  made  water-tight  by  a  coating  of  earth.  The 
circle  of  cabins  is  interspersed  with  tents,  and  in  the  rear 
of  each  one  stands  a  covered  wagon,  its  white  top  visible 
above  the  low  roof,  so  that  at  a  little  distance  the  whole 
settlement  presents  the  appearance  of  one  of  those  canvas 
towns  which,  a  few  years  later,  sprang  up  everywhere 
throughout  the  West  in  the  wake  of  miners  and  railroads. 
The  cattle  belonging  to  the  encampment  are  feeding  on  the 
prairie  beyond  in  the  care  of  the  herders,  but,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  men  thus  engaged,  the  whole  population  of 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  .         *3 

the  settlement  are  assembled  in  an  open  space  within  the 
circle  of  buildings,  to  listen  to  their  chief  and  receive  his 
orders. 

The  speaker  is  the  same  individual  who,  a  little  more 
than  a  year  ago,  stood  on  the  bluffs  of  the  river  a  couple  of 
miles  farther  south,  and  prophesied  to  the  band  of  scouts 
he  led  that  they  should  find  in  the  heart  of  the  desert  a 
land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey.  This  prophecy  he  re- 
peats to-day  to  a  company  of  two  thousand  souls,  men, 
women,  and  children,  who  to-morrow  are  to  break  camp 
and  turn  their  faces  westward. 

Among  these  are  many  sincere  souls,  who  regard  their 
leader  as  inspired,  and  who  are  ready  to  follow  him  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth  if  need  be. 

There  are  men  of  wealth  camping  in  those  mud-roofed 
log-cabins,  who  have  offered  all  their  possessions  on  the 
altar  of  their  faith,  and  there  are  chaste  wives  and  tender 
mothers,  whose  presence  in  the  outlawed  band  can  only  be 
explained  by  their  sincere  though  sadly  mistaken  belief  in 
the  divine  mission  of  the  man  who  stands  before  them. 

Still,  as  already  stated,  the  fanatics  and  those  sincere  be- 
lievers in  the  New  Gospel  who  do  not  merit  that  title,  are 
not  in  the  majority.  There  are  scores  of  women  in  the 
encampment  who  are  there  only  because  their  husbands 
have  chosen  to  follow  the  leader  who  is  about  to  conduct 
them  into  the  wilderness  ;  and  there  are  other  women — 
many  of  them — whose  relations  to  the  leader  and  his  satel- 
lites are  such  as  could  not  be  maintained  openly  in  a  civil- 
ized community. 

More  than  half  of  the  mixed  company  are  children,  to 
whom  the  journey  across  the  plains  presents  itself  in  the 
light  of  a  long  summer  holiday,  and  babes  in  arms,  happy 
everywhere  so  long  as  they  can  look  up  into  the  unclouded 
heaven  of  a  mother's  face. 


i4  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

When  the  speaker  concluded  his  address,  the  "  Amcns" 
were  less  hearty  and  general  than  when  he  spoke  to  the 
band  of  picked  men  who  were  to  go  before  the  people  and 
prepare  the  way.  Many  of  the  present  company  were 
already  restive  under  a  despotism  which  they  foresaw 
would  become  absolute,  when  the  proposed  colony  should 
be  established  a  thousand  miles  from  civilization  ;  but  what 
could  they  do  ?  Some  of  them  were  already  outlawed  by 
their  own  acts  ;  others  had  surrendered  all  their  posses- 
sions into  the  hands  of  those  who  controlled  the  organiza- 
tion, and  even  among  the  disaffected  the  feeling  prevailed 
that  they  had  now  gone  too  far  to  retreat. 

After  the  assembly  broke  up,  the  speaker,  disengaging 
himself  from  those  who  pressed  around  him  with  eager 
questions,  walked  toward  the  open  door  of  one  of  the 
cabins,  which,  while  it  differed  in  no  wise  from  the  others 
outwardly,  within  was  comfortably  and  in  some  respects 
even  luxuriously  furnished. 

A  handsome  carpet  hid  the  rough  floor,  a  silken  coverlet 
was  spread  over  the  bed  that  occupied  one  comer,  and  the 
three  or  four  chairs  in  the  room  were  of  costly  make  and 
material,  though  bearing  unmistakable  marks  of  having 
been  brought  to  their  present  destination  under  difficulties. 

The  only  occupant  of  the  place  was  a  lady,  still  in  the 
prime  of  life,  and  with  a  face  whose  beauty  must  once  have 
been  of  no  common  order,  though  stamped  now  with  the 
ineffaceable  marks  of  years  of  suffering.  Her  dress,  like 
the  furniture  of  her  room,  was  strangely  out  of  keeping 
with  her  rude  surroundings. 

She  was  in  deep  mourning.  A  robe  of  soft  cashmere 
trimmed  with  heavy  folds  of  crape  trailed  on  the  carpet  as 
she  paced  the  floor  with  slow  steps. 

A  widow's  cap  covered  the  heavy  coils  of  hair,  once  jet 
black,  but  now  thickly  sprinkled  with  silver. 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  25 

The  face  was  perfect  in  outline,  but  colorless  as  though 
carved  out  of  marble,  and  thin  and  worn,  as  though  with 
long  illness  or  hopeless  sorrow — perhaps  both.  The  eyes, 
large,  dark,  and  lustrous,  were  cast  down  and  half  hidden 
by  the  long  lashes. 

A  certain  air  of  proud  patience,  the  offspring  of  a  spirit 
that  disdained  complaint,  marked  both  her  face  and  her 
manner,  yet  when  the  eyes  were  raised  for  a  moment  the 
smouldering  fire  in  them  told  of  passions  that,  once  roused, 
would  brook  no  control. 

As  the  leader  of  the  people  paused  at  her  door,  she  in- 
clined her  head  slightly,  but  gave  no  other  sign  of  being 
aware  of  his  presence.  His  face  darkened.  It  was  not 
such  a  reception  as  he  was  accustomed  to  ;  but  mastering 
an  evident  inclination  to  resent  the  disrespect  shown  him, 
he  said,  in  bland  tones, 

"  We  missed  you  much  this  morning.  Sister  La  Tour. 
I  am  sorry  you  were  not  able  to  be  out. ' ' 

Madame  La  Tour  (for  by  this  name  she  was  known  in 
the  world  she  had  left)  turned  her  dark  eyes  full  upon 
him,  with  a  look  under  which  he  quailed  for  an  instant ; 
but  recovering  himself,  presently  he  added, 

*'  I  want  to  speak  a  few  words  to  you  in  private,  and  by 
your  leave  I  will  come  in  ;"  stepping  across  the  threshold 
as  he  spoke,  and  closing  the  door  after  him. 

Madame  La  Tour  neither  answered  nor  turned  her  head, 
but  continued  to  pace  the  floor  with  slow  steps,  her  eyes 
once  more  cast  down. 

Her  unbidden  guest  seated  himself  in  the  nearest  chair, 
and  making  an  effort  to  appear  unconscious  of  her  man- 
ner, spoke  again  : 

"  Sister  La  Tour,  we  start  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morn- 
ing. All  our  arrangements  are  made,  and  every  one  ex- 
cept yourself  is  ready.     You  are  not  going  to  rebel  against 


26  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  at  the  last  hour  refuse  to  go 
with  us  ?" 

In  spite  of  his  assumed  ease,  there  was  an  undercurrent 
of  anxiety  in  the  tone  in  which  he  put  the  last  question. 
The  woman  stopped  suddenly  in  her  walk  and  faced  him. 

"Tell  me  first,"  she  said  sharply  and  sternly,  "what 
you  have  done  with  my  daughter." 

"  Your  daughter  is  in  good  hands,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
will  myself  be  responsible  for  her  safety." 

"  You .'" 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  concentrated  hate 
and  scorn  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke  this  single  word.  She 
crossed  the  room  again  once  or  twice,  then,  pausing  before 
him,  changed  her  tone. 

"  Only  give  me  back  my  child,"  she  said,  clasping  her 
hands  imploringly,  "  and  you  may  keep  all  else  that  you 
have  taken.  Will  not  my  money  satisfy  you— all  of  it  ? 
Why  should  you  rob  me  of  my  daughter  ?  What  have  I 
ever  done  to  deserve  it  ?" 

The  man's  deep-set  eyes  flashed,  and  his  cruel  mouth 
closed  firmly.  For  some  moments  he  regarded  the  ago- 
nized face,  the  suppliant  attitude  of  the  proud  woman  be- 
fore him,  with  savage  satisfaction.  When  he  spoke  again, 
it  was  to  say,  in  his  coldest  tones, 

"  Whether  you  ever  see  your  daughter  again  or  not  de- 
pends entirely  upon  yourself.  She  is  going  with  us,  though 
not  in  this  company,  and  if  you  give  over  your  sinful  oppo- 
sition to  what  the  Lord  has  revealed,  and  join  the  train  to- 
morrow, you  will  meet  her  in  the  place  that  He  has  given 
to  us  for  an  inheritance.  As  for  your  money" — here  he 
dropped  the  hypocritical  cant  which  he  knew  was  thrown 
away  upon  his  listener — "  your  offer  is  liberal,  very,  consid- 
ering that  I  have  got  it  already,  and  that  you  have  nothing 
to  show  for  it. '  * 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  i*t 

Madame  La  Tour  made  no  reply.  Her  face  settled  into 
the  expression  it  had  worn  before  the  entrance  of  her  un- 
welcome visitor,  and  she  recommenced  her  walk  across 
the  floor,  taking  no  farther  notice  of  him.  He  sat  a  few 
minutes  in  silence,  then,  rising,  opened  the  door  and 
passed  out,  saying, 

"  You  can  let  us  know  your  decision  this  evening." 

A  little  group  of  women  stood  at  the  door  of  the  next 
cabin,  and  as  he  came  near  them  he  stopped,  and,  glancing 
backward,  said, 

"  Some  of  the  sisters  ought  to  keep  an  eye  on  Sister  La 
Tour.  She  grows  worse,  and  I  am  afraid  will  never  be  right 
here  again,"  touching  his  forehead  significantly  as  he  spoke. 

"  Poor  thing  !"  said  one  of  the  women  compassionately, 
as  he  passed  on  ;  "I  didn't  know  she  was  so  bad  as  that, 
though,  to  be  sure,  she  has  never  been  like  herself  since  her 
husband  died." 

"  His  death  was  very  sudden,  wasn't  it  ?"  inquired 
another  of  the  group,  a  tall,  sharp-featured  woman. 

"  Well,  yes,  rather"  the  first  woman  answered,  hesitat- 
ing a  little,  and  looking  around  as  though  to  ascertain  who 
might  be  listening,  "  and  there  was  considerable  talk  at 
the  time." 

This  vague  statement  appeared  to  convey  a  meaning 
which  the  tall  woman  understood,  for  she  raised  both 
hands  with  the  exclamation, 

"  You  don't  say.  Sister  Merrit,"  and  then  relapsed  into 
silence. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  Sister  Merrit,"  interposed  the 
third  sister,  who  had  not  yet  spoken,  "  I  think  she  sees 
more  trouble  about  her  boys  going  off  with  that  Gentile 
emigrant  train,  than  about  anything  else." 

"  Nonsense,  Sister  Purdy,"  answered  Sister  Merrit 
sharply,  "  she's  glad  to  have  her  boys  get  away.     If  they 


28  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

hadn't  joined  the  train  she  would  have  sent  them  back 
home  to  Canada,  and  she'd  be  on  her  way  there  herself 
now  if  it  wasn't  for  this  trouble  about  Louise." 

"  Who  is  Louise  ?"  asked  the  tall  woman. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  I  thought  you  did,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  said  anything.  Louise  was  her  oldest  daughter,  and 
a  proud,  headstrong  piece  she  was  too  ;  but  a  great 
beauty,  as  they  say  her  mother  used  to  be  in  her  young 
days.  After  Brother  La  Tour  died  his  widow  was  obliged 
to  go  to  St.  Louis  on  business,  and  while  she  was  away 
Louise  boarded  in  Brother  Joseph's  family.  When  the 
mother  came  back  she  got  it  into  her  head  somehow  that 
there  was  something  wrong  ;  but  the  Prophet  was  killed 
that  same  month,  and  we  all  had  too  many  troubles  of 
our  own  to  think  much  about  Sister  La  Tour's  affairs. 
For  the  next  two  years,  and  until  we  left  Nauvoo,  the 
girl  stayed  with  her  mother,  and  seemed  somehow  greatly 
changed.  She  was  only  fifteen  when  her  father  died,  and 
not  much  more  than  seventeen  when  I  saw  her  last ;  but 
it  seemed  as  if  she  had  grown  old  in  two  years.  Her 
mother  was  more  wrapped  up  in  her  than  ever,  and  would 
hardly  allow  her  out  of  her  sight  a  moment ;  but  when  we 
left  Nauvoo  (Sister  Purdy  can  tell  you  what  a  time  we  had 
crossing  the  river  on  the  ice,  and  what  hardships  we  went 
through  afterward),  a  good  many  families  were  separated 
for  a  while  on  account  of  the  confusion  and  trouble. 
Among  the  rest.  Sister  La  Tour  and  her  daughter  were 
parted  accidentally,  and,"  lowering  her  voice  to  a  whisper, 
"  she  has  never  seen  the  girl  from  thai  day  to  this  ;  but 
she  has  got  it  into  her  head  that  Brother  Brigham  has  her 
hid  away  somewhere,  and  that's  why  she  never  speaks  to 
him  if  she  can  help  it." 

"  But,  Sister  Merrit,"  interrupted  Sister  Purdy  anxiously, 
"  you  know  the  poor  woman  is  out  of  her  mind." 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  29 

"  She  was  all  right  before  this  last  trouble,"  Sister  Mer- 
rit  answered,  "  and  if  that  ain't  enough  to  drive  a  mother 
out  of  her  mind,  I  don't  know  what  is." 

"  H'm  !  seems  to  me  there's  a  good  many  queer  things 
happening  among  us.  If  I'd  a  known  before  I  left  Ver- 
mont all  that  I  know  now  I  wouldn't  be  here." 

It  was  the  tall  woman  who  spoke  ;  and  she  finished  her 
remark  in  spite  of  a  warning  gesture  from  one  of  the  others, 
who  perceived  that  a  stout,  bullet-headed  man,  one  of  the 
original  pioneers,  was  approaching  within  hearing  dis- 
tance. He  passed  them,  however,  with  only  a  civil  "  Good- 
morning,"  and  when  he  was  out  of  sight  the  woman  who 
had  given  the  history  of  the  missing  Louise  said,  in  a  low 
tone, 

"  Sister  Wade,  we  all  have  a  right  to  our  opinions,  but 
sometimes  it's  just  as  well  to  keep  them  to  ourselves.  We 
are  out  of  the  States  now,  and  after  to-morrow  morning  it's 
hardly  likely  that  many  of  us  will  ever  see  them  again.  I 
found  out,  even  when  we  was  where  we  could  turn  back, 
that  it  didn't  pay  to  make  enemies  of  the  heads  of  the 
Church,  and  I'm  sure  that  after  we  start  on  this  journey 
we'll  have  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  them." 

"  If  /  thought  that,"  Sister  Wade  answered,  "  I  should 
not  start  at  all." 

"  Yes,  but,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  could  you  persuade 
your  husband  to  give  up  going  with  the  rest  ?" 

Sister  Wade's  countenance  fell.  She  looked  like  a  reso- 
lute woman  ;  but  it  was  plain  that  she  was  now  confronted 
by  a  difficulty  that  could  not  be  easily  disposed  of. 

"  I've  never  talked  to  him  about  it,"  she  said  evasively  ; 
and  after  a  few  more  words  the  conversation  dropped,  and 
the  women  separated. 

Meanwhile  Madame  La  Tour's  guest  was  walking 
rapidly  toward  his  own  domicile,  a  building  constructed, 


3©  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

like  the  others,  of  logs,  but  larger  than  any  of  them,  and 
divided  into  several  rooms.  His  face  expressed  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  hard-won  victory,  and  as  he  passed  out  of 
the  hearing  of  the  women  to  whom  he  had  spoken,  he  said 
aloud  to  himself, 

"  She  will  go." 

The  front  door  of  his  own  house  was  open,  and  within  a 
plain-looking  woman  was  busily  engaged  in  packing. 

He  passed  her  without  sf>eaking,  and  knocked  at  an 
inner  door.  It  was  opened  by  a  tall,  handsome,  well- 
dressed  woman,  whose  face  indicated  in  a  marked  degree 
the  same  traits  which  his  own  looks  revealed — pride,  am- 
bition, and  unconquerable  self-will. 

This  woman,  who  had  forsaken  husband  and  children, 
and  thrown  position  and  reputation  to  the  winds  for  his 
sake,  had  meant  to  rule  the  man  who  ruled  all  others  ;  but 
while  she  was  conscious  that  she  had  failed  in  this,  she  was 
wise  enough  to  make  the  most  of  his  confidence,  and  of 
the  degree  of  influence  she  possessed. 

As  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  she  asked,  with  evi- 
dent anxiety, 

*'  Have  you  succeeded  ?" 

"  I  have,"  was  the  answer.  "  She  will  go  with  us  to- 
morrow, and,  what  is  of  more  consequence,  her  money  and 
her  family  go.  I  have  no  wish  to  see  her  return  to  Canada 
to  spread  an  evil  report ;  but  still  she  will  always  make 
trouble,  and  we  could  have  spared  her  better  than  we  can 
spare  the  children  or  the  property." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  the  children  ?"  she  asked, 
eying  him  keenly. 

"  What  does  any  one  want  with  children  ?"  was  the  re- 
joinder. "  How  could  the  kingdom  be  built  up  without 
them  ?  Philip  is  a  likely  boy,  who  will  be  a  man  in  three 
or  four  years  ;  and,  boy  as  he  is,  he  would  cut  off  his  right 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  31 

hand  for  me  to-day.  The  little  girls  will  be  women  by  the 
time  we  get  fairly  settled,  and  they  will  have  their  mother's 
beauty,  though,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  not  her  temper." 

"  I  see."  The  woman's  face  was  a  study  as  she  pro- 
nounced these  words.  "  But  how  did  you  manage  to  get 
the  mother's  consent  ?" 

"  I  told  her  she  should  see  her  daughter  in  Zion,  but 
never  anywhere  else.  She  made  me  no  answer,  but  her 
face  showed  that  she  was  conquered.  We  used  to  think 
Brother  Heber  a  fool,  but  he  was  wiser  than  any  of  us 
when  he  carried  off  the  girl." 

"Brother  Heber  thought  only  of  himself,"  the  woman 
answered,  her  lip  curling  slightly  as  she  spoke  ;  "  but  how 
about  the  money  ?  Those  boys  who  have  gone  through  to 
the  coast  may  make  you  trouble  about  that  yet." 

"  They  are  welcome  to  try,  after  they  get  there." 

The  tone  in  which  the  last  sentence  was  spoken,  and  the 
look  that  accompanied  it,  conveyed  a  meaning  not  to  be 
mistaken.     The  woman  turned  a  little  pale. 

"  There  are  risks,"  she  said. 

"  Not  for  me,"  he  interrupted  ;  "  I  never  take  any  risks." 

Has  not  history — the  history  of  a  long  succession  of 
crimes  whose  responsibility  was  always  shifted  upon 
others — borne  out  this  assertion  ? 

The  remainder  of  the  day  we  are  describing  was  a  busy 
one  in  the  settlement.  Goods  were  packed,  tents  taken 
down,  wagons  loaded,  and  before  the  sun  set  all  the  prep- 
arations for  their  long  jourjiey  were  completed.  Their 
flocks  and  herds,  which  were  to  be  taken  with  them,  were 
corraled  near  at  hand,  and  the  horses  picketed  outside,  so 
that  there  need  not  be  an  hour's  delay  in  the  morning. 

The  family  of  Madame  La  Tour,  consisting  of  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  two  little  girls  of  ten  and  twelve,  and  a  couple  of 
servants,  had  been  busy  as  the  others,  and  by  the  time 


j2  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR, 

darkness  settled  down  on  the  encampment  nothing  re- 
mained in  their  house  except  the  bed,  which  the  mother 
occupied  on  this  last  night  with  her  little  girls.  Philip, 
the  son,  slept  in  the  ambulance  in  which  they  were  to 
travel,  and  the  servants,  Pierre  Roche  and  Joan  his  wife, 
who  had  come  with  the  La  Tours  from  their  old  home  in 
Quebec,  kept  guard  over  the  goods  in  the  wagons. 

Before  following  the  fortunes  of  the  emigrants  any  far- 
ther, it  becomes  necessary  that  we  should  give  a  brief  his- 
tory of  this  family,  whose  members  will  occupy  a  prominent 
place  in  the  present  narrative. 

Francis  La  Tour  was  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  oldest 
French  families  who  were  among  the  founders  of  Quebec, 
and  for  nearly  two  hundred  years  there  never  lacked  one 
of  his  name  and  blood  to  fill  the  honorable  place  which  his 
ancestors  had  made  for  themselves.  The  family  were 
Catholics,  and  in  his  youth  Francis,  at  that  time  their  only 
male  representative,  was  strongly  inclined  to  a  monastic 
life  ;  but  the  beauty  of  a  neighbor's  daughter  won  him 
from  his  resolves,  and  after  his  marriage,  as  sometimes 
happens,  he  passed  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  ;  and 
whereas  he  had  begun  by  yearning  for  a  monk's  cell  he 
ended  by  casting  off  the  faith  of  his  fathers  altogether. 
The  consequence  was  that  a  coldness  grew  up  between 
himself  and  his  old  friends,  and  he  decided  at  length  to 
seek  a  home  elsewhere.  The  point  he  selected  was  St. 
Louis  ;  and  when  he  settled  there  he  had  already  a  family 
of  six  children,  three  sons  and  three  daughters,  growing  up 
around  him.  His  children  were  bright,  handsome,  and 
affectionate  ;  his  wife  was  devoted  to  him  ;  he  had  every 
good  that  wealth  can  bestow,  and  yet  Francis  La  Tour  was 
an  unhappy  man. 

In  casting  off  the  faith  in  which  he  was  reared,  he  had 
by  no  means  cast  off  his  religious  aspirations,  and  his  state 


MADAME  LA    TOUR.  33 

now  was  that  of  a  man  seeking  rest  and  finding  none  in 
any  form  of  belief. 

It  was  at  a  time  when  his  mind  was  in  this  state  which  I 
have  tried  to  describe,  that  the  emissaries,  sent  out  by  the 
community  calling  themselves  "  Latter  Day  Saints,"  found 
in  him  a  willing  hearer.  He  was  disquieted  by  doubts  : 
they  offered  him  a  certainty.  He  was  tired  of  comparing 
the  rival  claims  of  the  systems  of  religion  that  were  taught 
in  books  :  they  would  lead  him  at  once  to  a  living  prophet, 
through  whom  Divinity  would  speak  directly  to  him.  His 
case  was  met. 

Whatever  faults  these  missionaries  may  have  had,  diffi- 
dence and  hesitation  were  not  among  them,  and  the  cer- 
tainty that  they  assumed,  the  boldness  with  which  they 
spoke,  and  the  promptness  with  which  they  acted,  had  their 
effect.  Francis  La  Tour  was  among  their  earliest  con- 
verts, and  within  six  months  after  his  baptism  he  removed 
to  Nauvoo,  and  like  one  of  old,  sold  all  his  possessions,  and 
laid  the  price  at  the  feet  of  those  who  did  not  display  the 
least  unwillingness  to  receive  it. 

Strangely  enough,  however,  as  soon  as  his  property  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Church,  his  health  began  to  fail,  and  he 
died  after  a  short  illness,  leaving  his  widow,  whose  faith 
was  by  no  means  as  strong  as  his  own,  to  make  the  best 
terms  she  could  for  the  support  of  her  children  with  those 
who  held  her  property  in  their  hands. 

The  two  older  sons  were,  like  their  mother,  only  partially 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  New  Gospel  ;  but  Louise,  the 
oldest  daughter,  and  Philip,  the  third  son,  shared  their 
father's  faith,  and  looked  up  to  the  Prophet  Joseph  as 
almost  divine.  It  is  true  that  Philip  was  little  more  than  a 
child,  but  he  was  one  of  those  who  are  religiously  disposed 
almost  from  the  cradle.  Louise  was  differently  constituted, 
but  her  father  was  her  idol,  and  anything  that  he  believed 


34  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

was  sacred  in  her  eyes.  It  was  her  own  wish  to  board  in 
the  family  of  the  Prophet  after  her  father's  death,  and  her 
mother  gave  a  reluctant  consent  only  when  Louise  urged, 
as  a  final  argument, 

"  If  father  could  speak,  he  would  say  that  was  the  place 
for  me." 

The  business  which  called  Madame  La  Tour  to  St.  Louis 
detained  her  nearly  six  months,  and  when  she  returned  to 
Nauvoo  the  air  was  rife  with  whispers  of  strange  doctrines, 
chief  and  most  repulsive  of  which  was  that  of  Celestial  Mar- 
riage :  for  it  was  in  the  State  of  Illinois,  and  as  early  as  the 
year  1843,  that  this  doctrine  became  one  of  the  cardinal  fea- 
tures of  the  religion  of  the  Saints  of  the  Mormon  Church, 
and  there  is  abundant  evidence  to  prove  that  the  practice 
antedated  the  promulgation  of  the  doctrine  by  half  a  dozen 
years  at  least. 


CHAPTER   III. 

PILGRIMAGE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 

Madame  La  Tour,  like  most  persons  reared  in  the 
Catholic  faith,  had  exalted  ideas  of  the  sacredness  of  the 
marriage  tie,  and  when  the  report  (only  too  well  authenti- 
cated) came  to  her  ears  that  the  Prophet  Joseph  had  taken 
a  score  of  young  girls  as  his  spiritual  wives,  and  that  a 
number  of  women  already  married  had  been  "sealed"  to 
him  for  eternity,  horror  and  loathing  took  the  place  of  the 
kindly  feeling  she  had  entertained  toward  him  for  her  hus- 
band's sake.  Her  daughter  was  no  longer  an  inmate  of 
his  house.  She  had  taken  her  home  on  the  day  she  re- 
turned, and  she  now  felt  that  her  child  had  been  rescued 
from  the  brink  of  destruction.  This  comfort,  however, 
was  short-lived. 

Within  a  month  after  her  return,  the  Prophet,  exasperated 
by  a  report  that  Madame  La  Tour  was  about  to  go  to  St, 
Louis  with  her  family  for  the  purpose  of  denouncing  him, 
sent  her  a  message,  the  import  of  which  was  that  she 
might  go  when  and  where  she  pleased,  but  she  could  not 
take  Louise,  who  had  been  sealed  to  him  ;  and  Louise, 
when  confronted  with  the  messenger,  did  not  deny  it. 

The  unhappy  mother  never  recovered  from  this  crushing 
blow,  and  the  kind-hearted  women  who  thought  her  "  a 
little  out  of  her  mind"  were  not  altogether  wrong.  Hef 
daughter's  disgrace  bowed  her  proud  spirit  to  the  earth, 
and  when  Louise,  now  thoroughly  cured  of  her  infatuation, 
begged  that  she  might  not  be  forced  to  go  back  among 
those  whom  she  could  never  look  in  the  face  again,  her 


36  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

mother  yielded  so  far  as  to  consent  to  remain  in  Nauvoo 
until  they  could  find  some  retreat  far  from  all  who  had 
known  them  in  the  past. 

The  one  thought  of  both  was  to  hide  forever  from  the 
world  ;  and  the  mother,  thrown  back  in  her  grief  and  de- 
spair upon  the  faith  of  her  childhood,  vowed  herself  to  a  life 
of  prayer  and  penance  in  the  refuge  that  she  hoped  to  find. 

At  this  time,  however,  all  their  property  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  authorities  of  the  Church,  Indeed,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  a  small  annuity  which  Madame  La  Tour  pos- 
sessed in  her  own  right,  they  would  not  have  had  the 
means  to  live  from  day  to  day. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  when  the  Prophet  Joseph,  with 
several  of  his  counselors,  was  arrested  by  the  civil  authori- 
ties and  conveyed  to  the  prison,  where  he  met  his  death  at 
the  hands  of  an  infuriated  mob.  His  murder  had  the  effect 
that  might  have  been  anticipated.  In  the  eyes  of  his  de- 
voted followers  it  crowned  him  with  the  glories  of  martyr- 
dom, and  the  whole  people,  accepting  it  as  the  gage  of 
open  war  between  themselves  and  the  world,  saw  the 
necessity  of  a  closer  union  among  themselves,  and  began 
to  look  forward  to  the  establishment  of  a  commonwealth  of 
their  own,  at  a  safe  distance  from  their  enemies. 

Madame  La  Tour  found  her  embarrassments  greatly  in- 
creased by  the  Prophet's  death  and  the  consequences  that 
ensued.  Her  only  home  was  among  his  followers,  and  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world  she  was  identified  with  them.  Her 
daughter  refused  to  return  to  their  former  friends,  and  her 
prof)erty  was  still  held  by  the  Church.  Besides  all  this, 
the  man  who  from  the  first  had  determined  to  succeed  to 
the  dead  Prophet,  and  who  already,  within  six  months  after 
his  death,  exercised  a  greater  power  over  the  people  than 
Joseph  had  attained  to  in  a  lifetime,  was  her  bitter  and 
unrelenting  enemy. 


PILGRIMAGE  OF   THE   SAINTS.  37 

By  means  best  known  to  himself,  he  had  become  the 
trustee  of  her  property,  and  conceiving  the  idea  of  securing 
it  as  his  own,  proposed  to  make  her  his  spiritual  wife. 
The  unmeasured  scorn  and  indignation  with  which  she  re- 
pelled the  first  intimation  of  his  purpose,  he  could  neither 
forget  nor  forgive,  and  while  outwardly  patient  and  con- 
siderate in  his  manner  toward  her,  he  only  bided  his  time 
to  wreak  on  her  such  a  vengeance  as  she  never  dreamed  of. 

Long  before  they  left  Nauvoo,  he  began  to  prepare  for 
the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose  by  throwing  out  art- 
fully-worded hints  regarding  her  insanity. 

He  intrusted  the  abduction  of  her  daughter  to  other 
/lands,  upon  his  established  principle  of  taking  no  personal 
risks  ;  but  it  was  his  act  nevertheless,  and  only  the  begin- 
ning of  his  vengeance. 

At  first,  Louise's  separation  from  her  family  was  so 
arranged  as  to  appear  accidental,  and  her  mother  hoped 
to  find  her  somewhere  in  the  company  of  fugitives  who  were 
making  their  forced  and  perilous  march  to  the  next  halting- 
place  chosen  by  their  leaders.  It  was  not  until  they 
reached  the  western  bank  of  the  Missouri  that  she  learned 
the  truth.  There,  in  an  Indian  country,  where  redress 
was  impossible,  and  where  her  enemy  had  already 
strengthened  himself  by  an  alliance  with  the  chiefs  of  the 
savage  tribes  around  them,  he  sought  an  interview  with 
her,  and  obtained  it  by  the  promise  of  giving  her  news  of 
Louise. 

The  substance  of  his  communication,  when  made,  was 
that  the  spirit  she  had  lately  shown  rendered  her  an  unfit 
guardian  for  her  daughter,  who  besides  being  the  child  of 
the  Church,  left  in  its  care  by  her  father,  was  the  wife  of 
their  martyred  Prophet,  and  as  such  the  especial  charge  of 
his  successor. 

The  bereaved  mother  did  not  break  out  into  ravings,  as 


38  THE  FA  TE   OP  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

her  tormentor  hoped  she  would  ;  the  blow  was  too  direct 
and  stunning.  For  a  time  all  her  faculties  seemed  be- 
numbed, and  during  most  of  the  years  that  followed  she 
appeared  as  we  have  seen  her  on  the  day  preceding  the 
departure  of  the  emigrants  for  their  new  home  in  the  heart 
of  the  wilderness. 

♦  »♦♦»»♦ 

It  will  be  perceived  that  Brigham  Young,  in  the  charac- 
ter of  successor  to  the  murdered  Prophet,  assumed  powers 
that  the  former  never  pretended  to.  Already,  within  less 
than  a  year  from  the  time  that  his  claim  to  the  office  on 
which  he  had  seized  was  confirmed  by  the  people,  he  had 
entered  upon  the  exercise  of  that  absolute  temporal  power 
which  afterward  grew  to  such  proportions  that  he  felt  him- 
self able  to  defy  the  Government  of  the  United  States. 

And  yet,  not  one  of  all  those  who  have  attempted  to 
analyze  his  character  has  given  a  satisfactory  solution  of 
the  secret  of  his  extraordinary  ascendency  over  his  follow- 
ers.* A  man  of  the  people,  born  and  nurtured  in  poverty, 
barely  able  to  read  and  write,  living  in  obscurity  until 
nearly  forty  years  of  age,  and  moreover  quite  destitute  of 
personal  courage, f  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  he 
held  the  lives,  liberty,  and  property  of  the  Saints  in  his 
hands,  and  exercised  in  all  things  the  power  of  an  absolute 
and  irresponsible  despot.  At  the  time  of  which  we  write, 
his  complete  domination  over  his  followers  (numbering 
many  thousands  in  both  hemispheres)  was  shown  by  the 
fact  that,  while  he  led  in  person  the  small  company  of  two 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  B,  page  330. 

t  The  present  writer  has  seen  Brigham  Young  in  the  hands  of  the 
Federal  authorities,  pale,  trembling,  and  suffering  aU  the  agonies  of 
extreme  physical  cowardice ;  and  it  is  notorious  that  in  the  zenith  of  his 
power  he  never  ventured  outside  bis  own  gate  without  an  armed 
guard. 


PILGRIMAGE  OF  THE  SAINTS.  39 

thousand  souls  which  composed  the  van  of  the  moving 
army  of  pilgrims,  the  marching  orders  which  he  left  behind 
him  were  obeyed  to  the  letter  by  the  Saints  who  were  set- 
tled in  comfortable  homes,  as  well  as  by  those  who  tarried 
in  camps,  and  thenceforward  the  plains  were  white  with 
the  wagons  of  the  emigrants,  who  came  at  the  call  of  their 
leader  from  almost  every  country  and  clime,  to  gather 
round  the  standard  which  he  had  set  up  in  the  wilderness. 

The  first  company,  with  which  the  Prophet  traveled,  was 
provided  with  everything  necessary  for  a  speedy  and  pros- 
perous journey,  and  as  many  of  the  men  in  this  company 
were  already  under  the  ban  of  the  law  for  various  offenses, 
the  Zion  toward  which  they  journeyed  was  to  them  a  city 
of  refuge,  which  it  was  desirable  to  reach  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. 

There  was  another  reason  which  operated  still  more 
powerfully  with  their  Prophet  to  urge  forward  the  com- 
pany he  led.  Among  the  spiritual  wives  who  had  been 
sealed  to  the  Prophet  Joseph  were  a  number  of  married 
women,  whose  husbands  knew  nothing  of  their  relations  to 
him.  In  some  cases  the  deceived  husband  was  absent  on 
a  foreign  mission,  which  would  keep  him  from  his  family 
four  or  five  years.  In  other  instances,  though  the  husband 
continued  to  live  with  his  wife,  concealment  had  been  sa 
successfully  practiced  that  he  did  not  even  suspect  her  ot 
infidelity  ;  but  in  either  case  a  discovery  which  could  not 
fail  to  be  attended  with  unpleasant  consequences  was  to  be 
guarded  against  just  now.* 

Injured  husbands  had  made  much  of  the  trouble  which 
resulted  in  the  downfall  of  Nauvoo,  and  the  Prophet  Brig- 
ham,  who  in  the  character  of  Joseph's  successor  claimed 
and  appropriated  a  number  of  his  wives,  meant  to  estab< 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  C,  pi^e  330. 


4o        TitE  Pate  bP  Madame  la  tour. 

lish  himself  securely  in  the  mountain  fastness  which  was 
to  be  the  seat  of  his  kingdom,  before  the  husbands  of  these 
women  learned  the  truth.  Then,  being  clothed  with  abso- 
lute power,  he  would  acknowledge  them  openly  as  his 
wives,  and  make  them  members  of  his  household. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  « 

Madame  La  Tour  felt  keenly  the  degradation  of  being 
forced  to  make  her  journey  with  this  company  of  outlaws, 
and  of  women  who  had  sacrificed  truth,  honor,  and  virtue 
on  the  altar  of  their  false  faith  ;  but  there  were  others 
among  the  emigrants  whose  sufferings  in  this  respect  were 
far  greater  than  her  own. 

Polygamy  had  been  secretly  practiced,  not  only  by  the 
leaders  of  the  people,  but  by  many  of  their  followers,  for 
six  years  past,  and  now,  having  left  the  farthest  borders  of 
civilization  for  a  home  in  the  wilderness,  all  disguises  were 
thrown  off,  and  women  who  had  been  wholly  ignorant  of 
the  acceptance  of  polygamy  by  their  husbands  were  con- 
fronted with  the  "  spiritual  wives"  (and  in  some  cases  with 
their  children  also),  and  requested  to  receive  them  as  mem- 
bers of  the  family  ! 

In  Nauvoo,  women  who  refused  to  accept  what  was 
known  there  as  the  spiritual  wife  doctrine  could  only  be 
subjected  to  ecclesiastical  penalties,  and  threatened  with 
eternal  punishment ;  but  here,  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian 
country,  with  no  human  tribunal  to  which  appeal  could  be 
made,  with  no  help  at  hand,  the  penalty  which  the  Mor- 
mon code  prescribed  *  could  be  visited  on  offenders  by 
abandoning  them  to  the  tender  mercies  of  savages  and 
wild  beasts. 

*  If  a  woman  refuse  to  give  other  wives  to  her  husband  it  shall  be 
lawful  for  him  to  take  them  without  her  consent,  and  ske  shall  be  destroy- 
ed/or her  disobedience.— REVKhKTiou  on  Celestial  Markiage, 
Section  25. 


PILGRIMAGE   OF   THE   SAINTS.  41 

There  were  many  wives  in  that  company  who  could  not 
otherwise  have  been  brought  to  submit  to  the  indignities 
heaped  upon  them  ;  and  among  these  there  were  some 
who  would  have  chosen  to  perish  in  the  wilderness  rather 
than  to  continue  their  journey  with  the  women  who  had 
robbed  them  of  their  husbands  ;  but  these  wives  were  also 
mothers,  many  of  them  with  babes  at  the  breast,  and  for 
their  children's  sake  they  endured  all  things. 

It  was  for  her  child's  sake  that  Madame  La  Tour  had 
undertaken  her  dreary  pilgrimage  across  the  plains,  in  the 
company  of  those  she  despised  and  loathed.  The  word  of 
the  Prophet  alone  could  not  have  convinced  her  that 
Louise  was  to  be  taken  to  the  place  to  which  the  emigrants 
were  bound  ;  but  what  he  had  said  to  her  was  only  a  con- 
firmation of  what  she  had  learned  from  other  sources,  and 
she  had  now  no  reason  to  doubt  that  her  daughter,  if  not 
already  in  the  mountains,  would  be  carried  there  some 
time  during  the  present  summer. 

A  mother's  love  triumphs  over  all  difficulties,  and  per- 
ceives no  impossibilities.  She  did  not  ask  herself  how  she 
should  rescue  her  child  when  found.  Surely,  after  all  her 
sacrifices  and  sufferings,  God  would  provide  a  way. 

There  was  no  one  near  her  in  whom  she  could  confide, 
or  of  whom  she  could  ask  counsel.  Her  son  Philip, 
though  affectionate  and  obedient  to  her,  looked  up  to  the 
Prophet  as  a  divine  being,  and  the  latter  spoke  truly  when 
he  said  that  the  boy  would  cut  off  his  right  hand  for  him. 
Catherine,  her  second  daughter,  inherited  her  mother's 
spirit,  and  if  she  knew  the  truth  about  her  sister,  would 
say  or  do  some  rash  thing  which  would  bring  trouble 
upon  all  of  them  ;  and  Blanche,  the  youngest,  was  only  a 
child. 

Her  servants,  it  is  true,  were  faithful  and  attached  to 
her  ;  but  they  were  stolid  specimens  of  the  Canadian  peas- 


42  THE  FATE  OE  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

antry,  whose  slow  wits  were  of  little  use  in  any  matter  not 
connected  with  their  daily  tasks. 

She  had  one  friend  in  the  company  outside  of  her  own 
family,  but  just  now  this  friend  had  sore  burdens  of  her 
own  to  bear. 

Helen  Woodford  was  the  wife  of  a  high  priest  whose 
place  was  near  the  Prophet,  and  whose  counsel  and  aid 
had  been  of  the  greatest  value  to  the  Saints  in  their  past 
difHculties  and  perils. 

He  was  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  ability,  and  by  far 
the  superior  of  their  leader  in  birth  and  culture,  but  he  was 
one  of  the  few  who  merited  the  title  of  fanatic.  He  had 
already  sacrificed  fortune,  friends,  and  social  position  for 
the  sake  of  his  faith,  and  the  event  proved  that  he  was 
ready  to  do  much  more  than  this  at  the  command  of  the 
Prophet. 

He  had  always  been  proud  of  his  wife,  who  was  a 
woman  of  fine  mind  and  noble  presence,  and  apparently 
their  marriage  was  in  every  sense  a  happy  one. 

They  had  three  boys,  bright,  handsome  children, idolized 
by  both  parents,  and  so  far  as  their  friends  knew,  their 
domestic  sky  was  without  a  cloud  ;  but  in  reality,  the  storm 
which  finally  wrecked  their  home  began  to  gather  as  far 
back  as  the  days  when  the  Prophet  Joseph  first  whispered 
to  those  nearest  him  that  he  had  a"  revelation"  command- 
ing the  Saints  to  take  unto  themselves  many  wives. 

Woodford,  from  the  fact  that  he  occupied  a  position  of 
trust  and  confidence,  was  one  of  the  first  to  hear  of  this 
"revelation,"  and  although  the  immediate  effect  of  the 
disclosure  was  to  shake  his  faith  in  the  new  religion  and 
its  Prophet,  he  was  finally  brought  to  accept  the  doctrine 
of  celestial  marriage  as  true.  Still  his  affection  for  his 
wife,  and  perhaps  also  a  little  wholesome  fear  of  conse- 
quences (for  it  must  be  remembered  that  at  this  time  and 


PILGRIMAGE  OP  THE  SAINTS.  43 

for  some  years  afterward  the  Saints  were,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, amenable  to  the  civil  law),  kept  him  from  putting  his 
belief  in  practice. 

It  was  not  the  will  of  the  Prophet's  successor,  however, 
that  the  "  revelation"  should  remain  a  dead  letter,  and  a 
strong  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the  leading  men 
of  the  Church  who  had  still  some  love  for  their  wives,  and 
some  regard  for  decency  and  good  morals,  to  bring  them 
to  practice  its  teachings. 

Woodford  was  among  the  number  of  those  who,  as  a 
test  of  their  loyalty  to  the  Church,  were  required  to  take 
more  wives,  and  in  the  end  he  consented  to  do  so,  and  two 
young  girls  were  sealed  to  him  on  the  same  day,  "  for  time 
and  eternity." 

The  need  of  secrecy,  however,  was  still  recognized,  and 
for  many  months  Helen  Woodford  knew  nothing  of  the 
irreparable  wrong  done  her. 

When  her  suspicions  were  at  length  awakened,  her  hus- 
band was  absent  on  a  missionary  tour,  from  which  he  did 
not  return  until  the  day  when  the  first  company  of  emi- 
grants were  preparing  for  their  march  across  the  plains. 
Long  before  this  the  quick  eye  of  the  wife  had  discerned 
a  change  in  him  for  which  she  was  at  a  loss  to  account ; 
and  now,  while  he  was,  if  possible,  more  tender  in  his 
manner  toward  her  than  ever  before,  she  could  not  help 
perceiving  that  he  was  ill  at  ease,  and  oppressed  by  some 
unusual  anxiety. 

Still,  strangely  enough,  the  fears  which  she  had  begun  to 
entertain  during  her  husband's  absence  did  not  now  trou- 
ble her,  and  after  they  started  on  their  journey  she  did  not 
once  suspect  the  true  cause  of  his  gloom  and  restlessness, 
until  the  day  came  which  he  had  determined  upon  for  end- 
ing all  concealment. 

The  emigrant  train  had  now  been  about  a  week  on  the 


44  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

road,  and  was  a  little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  west  of 
the  Missouri.  It  was  near  sundown,  and  they  had  camped 
for  the  night,  when  Woodford  entered  the  tent  in  which 
his  wife  sat,  accompanied  by  two  young  women,  one  of 
them  carrying  a  baby  in  her  arms,  and  the  other  leading 
by  the  hand  a  child  a  little  more  than  a  year  old.  Helen 
rose  with  a  feeling  of  surprise,  but  still  with  no  premoni- 
tion of  what  was  coming,  and  at  the  same  moment  her 
husband  led  forward  the  woman  on  his  right,  saying, 

"  This  is  my  wife  Mary,  and  this  is  our  child." 

Then  turning  immediately  to  the  one  on  his  left  he 
added, 

"  This  is  my  wife  Emily,  and  the  little  one  in  her  arms 
is  our  child." 

Helen  did  not  break  out  into  reproaches,  nor  did  she 
scream  or  faint.  She  walked  quickly  and  silently  out  of 
the  tent,  and  continued  to  walk  until  a  little  rise  of  ground 
hid  the  camp  from  her  sight.  She  was  following  the 
course  of  the  stream  that  ran  near  the  tent.  Somewhere, 
perhaps,  it  might  be  deep  enough  to  afford  her  a  resting- 
place  under  its  waters.  Still  farther.  She  was  now  a  mile 
from  camp,  and  yet  the  peaceful  stream,  creeping  between 
its  grassy  banks,  was  so  shallow  that  she  could  touch  the 
bottom  with  her  hand.  She  sat  down  beside  it,  and  gazed 
into  the  water. 

"  There  are  other  ways,"  she  said  aloud,  remembering 
the  pistol  that  was  lying  in  a  corner  of  her  trunk,  with  a 
sense  of  disappointment  that  she  had  not  brought  it. 

How  long  she  sat  there  she  did  not  know.  She  was  not 
thinking  ;  she  was  not  even  conscious  for  a  part  of  the  time  ; 
but  at  last  her  trance  was  broken  by  a  voice  that  she  knew 
—the  voice  of  her  first-bom. 

"  Mother  !  mother  !"  the  boy  called,  in  accents  of  agony 
and  terror. 


PILGRIMAGE  OF   THE   SAINTS.  45 

He  did  not  see  her.  Darkness  was  settling  down,  and 
the  fringe  of  willows  on  the  bank  hid  her  from  view, 

"  Mother  !  mother  !  where  are  you  ?  Oh,  she  is  lost !" 
and  then  sobs  drowned  his  voice. 

That  sound  called  the  mother  back  to  life.  She  rose 
slowly  to  her  feet.  "  Here,  my  son,"  she  called,  and  in  a 
minute  more  the  lad  was  clinging  about  her  neck. 

"  Oh,  mother,  why  did  you  go  so  far  ?"  he  said  through 
his  tears.  "  Edward  and  I  have  hunted  everywhere  tor 
you,  and  the  Indians  are  all  around.  Poor  little  Arthur  is 
alone  in  the  tent  crying  for  you.  Come,  mother;"  and 
leaning  on  her  son,  henceforth  her  only  stay  in  life,  Helen 
retraced  her  steps.  Half  way  to  the  camp  they  met  the 
second  boy  sobbing  and  wringing  his  hands,  while  he  con- 
tinued to  call  for  her,  and  little  Arthur,  her  baby,  had 
cried  himself  to  sleep  in  the  tent. 

She  lifted  the  little  fellow,  sobbing  even  in  his  slumber, 
from  the  cold  ground  on  which  he  lay.  Of  what  had  she 
been  thinking  ?  Was  her  life  her  own  to  end  when  it  be- 
came unbearable  ?  No.  It  belonged  to  her  children,  and 
for  their  sakes  she  would  live  it  out. 

She  sat  down  on  the  side  of  her  bed,  with  her  boy  in  her 
arms,  and  rested  the  little  sleeping  head  on  her  bosom. 
There  was  healing  in  the  touch  of  the  baby  hands.  There 
was  balm  in  the  soft  breathing  close  to  her  bruised  and 
bleeding  heart. 

The  older  boys  moved  about  quietly,  building  the  camp- 
fire  and  cooking  the  supper,  and  when  all  was  ready, 
Robert,  the  eldest,  said, 

"  Shall  I  go  and  call  father  ?" 

"  No,"  the  mother  replied,  wondering  at  herself  that  she 
could  speak  so  calmly  ;  "  he  has  something  to  attend  to, 
and  will  come  by  and  by." 

She  did  not  ask  the  boys  whether  their  father  ha^d  SQUt 


4w  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

them  to  search  for  her  ;  and  it  was  well  perhaps  that  she 
knew  nothing  of  what  passed  in  the  tent  after  she  left. 
Emily,  the  younger  of  the  two  women,  looking  at  her  as 
she  passed  out,  was  terrified  by  the  expression  of  the 
white,  set  face. 

"Go  after  her  quickly.  Brother  Woodford,"  she  said; 
"  she  means  to  put  herself  out  of  the  way." 

**  You  do  not  know  Helen,"  he  answered.  "This  is  a 
heavy  cross  for  her,  and  she  wants  to  be  alone  for  a  little 
while.  She  needs  to  pray  for  help  to  receive  you  in  the 
right  spirit." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  exclaimed  Mary,  "  that  she 
knew  nothing  about  us  until  you  brought  us  right  in  before 
her  ?" 

"  Brother  Brigham  counseled  us  to  reveal  nothing  before 
the  appointed  time,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  I  have  obeyed 
him." 

"  Then  I  must  say.  Brother  Woodford,  I  don't  wonder 
that  she  went  out  in  the  way  she  did,  and  for  my  part  I 
wouldn't  have  stirred  a  step  to  come  here  to-night  if  I'd 
known  that  she  had  never  been  told  a  word  before.  It 
wasn't  treating  her  right,  nor  us  either." 

"  Mary,"  said  Brother  Woodford  severely,  "  such  lan- 
guage in  reference  to  the  counsel  that  is  given  us  is  most 
unbecoming,  and  I  cannot  allow  it  in  any  member  of  my 
family." 

Mary  looked  subdued.  It  was  plain  that  she  stood 
greatly  in  awe  of  her  lord,  who  according  to  the  teaching 
she  had  received  held  her  salvation  in  his  hands. 

Both  she  and  Emily  were  simple-minded,  unsophisticated 
girls,  whose  credulity  had  been  their  undoing,  and  they 
were  not  so  lost  to  all  womanly  feeling  as  to  wish  to  force 
their  presence  upon  the  wronged  and  outraged  wife.  It 
had  been  Woodford's  purpose  to  follow  the  example  of  the 


PILGRIMAGE    OF    THE    SAINTS.  47 

Prophet,  and  make  them  members  of  his  household  at 
once  ;  but  they  both  refused  to  remain  that  night.  They 
had  made  the  journey  thus  far  with  a  relative,  and  they 
announced  their  intention  of  returning  to  his  camp  for  the 
present.  "  We  will  give  Sister  Woodford  a  little  time  to 
get  reconciled  ;  I  know  I  should  need  it  in  her  place,"  Emily 
said,  with  a  touch  of  genuine  feeling. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MYSTERY    BEGINS. 

The  days  lengthened  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks  into 
months,  but  the  emigrant  train  had  not  yet  come  in  sight 
of  the  mountains  that  girt  the  Promised  Land. 

Incumbered  as  they  were  with  women  and  children,  with 
flocks  and  herds,  and  with  heavily-loaded  wagons  carrying 
all  manner  of  supplies  for  the  new  settlement,  their  prog- 
ress was  necessarily  slow,  but  there  was  little  sickness  and 
no  death  in  the  company,  and  the  savages  who  had 
annoyed  the  scouts  did  not  show  any  disposition  to  molest 
the  train — a  fact  which  the  devout  believers  in  the  new 
gospel  regarded  as  a  sig^  that  Heaven  had  interposed 
specially  in  their  behalf. 

At  length,  late  in  August,  and  near  the  close  of  a  long 
day's  march,  dim,  bluish  masses  began  to  appear  upon  the 
western  horizon.  They  might  have  been  taken  for  clouds, 
so  faint  and  far-away  they  looked  ;  but  as  the  sun  sank 
out  of  sight  among  them,  their  jagged  outlines  were  clearly 
defined,  and  the  light  of  the  next  morning  showed  plainly 
what  they  were — the  rocky  peaks  of  the  mountains  about 
whose  base  wound  the  trail  followed  by  the  scouts  the  year 
before — the  mountains  which  were  to  be  as  a  wall  between 
the  inheritance  of  the  Saints  and  the  world  with  which  they 
were  at  war. 

About  a  dozen  men,  mounted  on  the  best  horses  in  the 
train,  were  now  dispatched  in  advance  of  the  main  body  to 
give  notice  to  the  colonists  in  the  valley  of  the  approach  of 
the  emigrants.     The  difficulties  of  traveling  with  so  many 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  49 

incumbrances  increased  greatly  as  they  entered  the  mount- 
ains, but  the  certainty  that  they  would  reach  the  end  of 
their  journey  in  a  few  days  at  the  farthest  lightened  all 
burdens,  and  the  whole  company  seemed  cheered  and  in- 
spired by  the  near  prospect  of  rest  from  the  fatigues  of 
their  toilsome  march. 

It  was  the  first  of  September  when  the  train  reached 
Emigration  Cafton,  for  so  the  pass  leading  into  the  valley 
had  been  named  by  the  scouts.  The  day  was  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  the  year,  and  the  scene  that  burst  upon  their 
view  as  they  emerged  from  the  cafton  was  such  as  to  leave 
no  doubt  in  the  minds  of  the  faithful  that  their  Prophet  had 
been  divinely  guided  to  the  spot,  while  the  large  number 
of  his  followers,  to  whom  a  remembrance  of  the  world  they 
had  left  was  unpleasantly  associated  with  the  idea  of 
sheriffs,  prisons,  and  the  penalties  of  violated  law,  regard- 
ed with  the  greatest  satisfaction  the  defences  which  nature 
had  built  up  around  this  new  stronghold. 

The  improvements  made  by  the  colonists  in  the  valley 
were  not  very  extensive.  About  a  dozen  adobe  houses,  and 
as  many  more  log-cabins  had  been  built ;  the  fall  grain  put 
in  the  year  before  had  been  reaped  and  threshed,  and  a  few 
acres  of  ground  planted  with  potatoes  and  other  vegetables. 

The  square  set  apart  for  the  Prophet  (a  plot  of  ten  acres 
in  the  heart  of  the  city)  had  been  partly  surrounded  by  a 
rude  fence,  and  an  adobe  house  had  been  built  in  the  cen- 
ter. In  one  corner  of  this  square  was  an  inclosure  known 
then  (and  ever  since)  as  the  Tithing  Yard.  Into  this  in- 
closure those  wagons  whose  freight  was  most  valuable 
were  driven,  and  a  guard  was  placed  over  them  "  that  the 
Indians  might  not  be  tempted  to  commit  depredations  :" 
so  the  owners  were  told. 

The  wagons  loaded  with  Madame  La  Tour's  goods  were 
taken  to  this  place,  and  also  the  ambulance  in  which  she 


so  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

had  made  the  journey.  A  smaller  wagon,  containing  their 
camp  outfit  and  a  few  necessaries  for  daily  use,  was  un- 
loaded at  the  door  of  the  cabin  which  was  designated  by 
the  Prophet  as  the  one  they  were  to  occupy. 

Madame  La  Tour  had  been  ill  during  the  last  week  of 
the  journey,  and  when  her  bed  was  made  up  in  the  cabin, 
and  her  children  had  done  what  they  could  for  her  com- 
fort, she  sank  into  a  stupor  from  which  it  was  difficult  to 
arouse  her.  She  continued  in  this  state  much  of  the  time 
for  ten  days,  and  Philip  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  Tithing 
Yard  in  search  of  medicines  and  other  necessaries  which 
were  in  the  wagons  left  there. 

The  Prophet,  who  supervised  the  smallest  details  as  well 
as  the  largest  undertakings  of  the  community,  was  the  per- 
son to  go  to — so  the  man  on  guard  informed  Philip  when 
he  made  known  his  errand.  Accordingly  the  boy  waited 
on  his  Prophet-master,  who  received  him  very  kindly,  but 
told  him  the  wagons  must  not  be  unpacked  until  his 
mother  was  able  to  look  after  her  own  business. 

"  And  meantime,"  he  added  graciously,  "  I  will  lend 
you  anything  and  everything  you  may  need." 

With  Philip  the  word  of  the  Prophet  was  law,  and  he 
accepted  this  arrangement  without  question.  When  his 
mother  was  able  to  sit  up,  she  learned  for  the  first  time 
where  her  property  was,  and  immediately  sent  Philip  and 
Pierre  with  a  written  order  for  the  wagons  and  their  con- 
tents. This  order  was  received  as  civilly  as  Philip's  verbal 
request  of  the  week  before  ;  but  the  Prophet  assured  his 
young  disciple  that  they  could  not  deviate  from  the  rule 
they  had  adopted,  which  was  not  to  deliver  up  anything 
until  identified  and  claimed  by  the  owner  in  person. 

"  In  a  few  days  at  the  farthest  your  mother  will  be  able 
to  come  herself,"  he  said  ;  "  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  I 
will  see  that  you  have  everything  you  need." 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  $1 

Madame  La  Tour  made  no  comments  on  this  message 
when  she  received  it.  It  was,  to  her,  sufficient  evidence 
that  her  enemy  meant  to  hold  everything  and  reduce  her 
to  a  state  of  complete  dependence  on  him  ;  but  no  good 
could  come  of  talking  to  her  son  about  anything  that  she 
felt  or  feared.  Now,  when  it  was  too  late,  she  saw  that 
she  had  placed  herself  wholly  in  the  power  of  the  man 
whom  she  knew  to  be  an  unrelenting  tyrant — cruel  as 
death,  remorseless  as  the  grave. 

Only  a  single  faint  gleam  of  hope  lighted  the  dark  pros- 
pect before  her.  Her  elder  sons,  who  had  rebelled  against 
the  Prophet's  rule,  and  who  hated  everything  that  per- 
tained to  this  false  faith,  might  yet  be  able  to  help  her.  As 
before  stated,  they  had  gone  through  to  the  coast  with  an 
emigrant  train  in  the  spring.  To  their  mother,  who  was 
ignorant  of  the  geography  of  the  country,  it  seemed  that 
the  place  to  which  they  were  bound  could  not  be  very  much 
farther  west ;  perhaps  it  was  just  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountains.  If  it  were  only  possible  to  communicate  with 
them,  they  would  find  means  to  bring  her  out  of  this  val- 
ley, the  air  of  which  seemed  already  poisoned. 

And  yet,  even  if  a  way  of  escape  opened,  she  could  not 
avail  herself  of  it  until  her  daughter  was  found — her 
daughter  whose  fate  she  dared  not  conjecture. 

Louise  was  not  in  the  valley.  It  is  true,  her  mother  at 
first  entertained  a  suspicion  that  the  pioneers  had  taken 
her  with  them  the  year  before,  but  she  had  given  up  this 
idea  months  ago.  A  much  larger  company  of  emigrants, 
composed  chiefly  of  those  fugitives  from  Nauvoo  who  had 
remained  east  of  the  Missouri,  was  now  on  the  way. 

It  was  expected  that  the  train  would  arrive  some  time  in 
October,  and  from  information  furnished  by  Mrs.  Wood- 
ford, Madame  La  Tour  was  confident  that  her  daughter 
would  enter  the  valley  with  this  company. 


$2  THE  FA  TE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Yet,  supposing  this  to  be  true,  her  mother  might  never 
see  her  face.  The  valley  of  Great  Salt  Lake,  the  site  of 
the  city  the  Prophet  had  laid  out,  was  by  no  means  the  only 
spot  selected  for  settlement.  Even  now,  before  either  men 
or  animals  had  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  long 
march  across  the  plains,  scouts  had  been  sent  north  and 
south  to  prospect  the  country.  The  colonists  who  came  in 
the  year  before  had  wonderful  stories  to  tell  of  the  beauty 
and  fertility  of  other  valleys  farther  south,  while  the  trap- 
per who  had  acted  as  their  guide,  and  who  still  remained 
with  them,  assured  the  new-comers  that  there  were  thou- 
sands of  acres  of  rich  grass  lands  a  little  to  the  north. 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  Prophet  to  take  possession  of 
these  lands  and  settle  them  as  rapidly  as  possible  ;  and 
about  twenty  families  in  the  present  company  had  already 
been  detailed  to  colonize  the  valleys  lying  south  of  Great 
Salt  Lake,  while  a  still  larger  number  of  the  company  ex- 
pected in  October  would  be  sent  north  as  soon  as  they 
arrived. 

Fortunately  for  the  prosperity  of  the  new  settlement, 
many  of  the  colonists  were  practical  farmers,  and  this  year 
as  well  as  the  year  before  a  number  of  the  wagons  in  the 
train  were  loaded  with  agricultural  implements,  and  with 
seed  for  the  ground  that  was  already  broken  to  receive  it. 

Necessity  is  a  stern  taskmistress,  and  under  her  com- 
pelling hand  the  settlers  worked  as  probably  few  of  them 
had  ever  worked  before.  Buildings  went  up  as  if  by 
magic,  irrigating  ditches  were  dug,  and  a  large  area  of 
ground  was  ready  for  the  fall  planting  by  the  time  the  sec- 
ond company  of  immigrants  arrived. 

Meanwhile  the  La  Tours  continued  dependent  on  the 
Prophet,  who  under  various  pretexts  delayed  the  surren- 
der of  their  goods  ;  and  while  their  neighbors  were  break- 
ing ground  to  plant  the  grain  for  the  next  year's  bread,  or 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  53 

building  themselves  comfortable  houses,  they  remained 
in  the  cabin  which  had  been  assigned  them  on  the  day  of 
their  arrival,  without  the  means  of  improving  their  present 
condition  or  making  any  provision  for  the  future. 

Pierre  Roche  and  his  wife  had  been  ordered  to  accom- 
pany the  colonists  sent  south,  and  they  had  gone,  taking 
with  them,  by  the  Prophet's  direction,  the  wagon  and  ox- 
team  which  were  the  only  vestiges  of  Madame  La  Tour's 
property  outside  the  Tithing  Yard.  Soon  after  they  left, 
the  Prophet  sent  for  Philip,  "  to  talk  matters  over,"  as  he 
said.  Assuming  a  most  fatherly  look  and  tone,  and  put- 
ting his  arm  around  the  shoulders  of  his  young  disciple, 
the  leader  of  the  people  began. 

"  My  dear  boy,  what  I  have  to  say  to  you  to-day  is  of  a 
very  painful  nature,  and  because  it  is  painful  I  have  fool- 
ishly put  it  off  from  time  to  time  ;  but  now  I  feel  that 
something  must  be  done,  and  for  this  reason  I  have  sent 
for  you.  You  know  that  your  mother's  health  has  been 
failing  for  two  years  past  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  have  also  noticed  that  she  is  greatly  changed  in 
other  respects  ;  but  you  are  so  young,  and  the  change  has 
been  so  gradual,  you  do  not  see  as  others  do  that  her  mind 
is  quite  gone." 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  so  bad  as  that  ?"  The  boy's  face 
was  white  with  distress  and  tear.  "  I  know  she  is  not  as 
she  used  to  be  ;  but  she  is  not — my  mother  cannot  be — 
mad  ?" 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  say  the  word,  but  that  is  just  the 
truth.  She  is  mad,  and  unless  she  is  watched  very  care- 
fully she  will  do  something  dreadful  to  herself  or  other  peo- 
ple. You  cannot  be  with  her  all  the  time,  and  your  sisters 
are  not  old  enough  to  take  care  of  her,  so  I  have  engaged 
Sister  Purdy,  who,  you  know,  is  a  very  good  woman,  to 


54  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

stay  with  her  and  watch  her,  and  help  your  sisters  about 
the  house.  For  yourself,  though  you  are  so  young,  you 
must  be  a  man,  and  take  a  man's  place.  The  support  of 
your  mother  and  sisters  and  a  great  many  cares  besides 
will  now  fall  upon  you,  and  because  I  love  you  for  your 
father's  sake  as  well  as  your  own,  I  want  to  help  you. 
You  have  proved  before  this  that  my  counsel  is  worth 
something." 

Beginning  in  this  strain,  the  Prophet  detained  his  lis- 
tener for  two  hours,  while  he  poured  into  his  ears  "  coun- 
sel" upon  every  possible  subject  connected  with  his  present 
or  future  life. 

When  Philip  at  length  started  for  his  home  the  sun  had 
set,  and  he  felt  a  little  troubled  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

He  never  left  his  mother  and  sisters  alone  after  dark  ; 
but  he  comforted  himself  now  with  the  thought  that  Sister 
Purdy  was  already  at  the  cabin,  as  the  Prophet  had  assured 
him  that  she  would  go  there  before  night. 

Still,  in  spite  of  this  assurance,  he  was  uneasy,  and  as 
the  shadows  .settled  down  upon  the  valley  he  quickened 
his  steps.  When  he  came  in  sight  of  the  cabin  no  light 
was  visible,  but  this  did  not  seem  strange  to  him,  as  he 
knew  his  mother  usually  hung  a  blanket  inside  of  the  one 
window,  in  which  a  square  of  muslin  did  duty  in  the  place 
of  glass.  He  hurried  on,  and  was  soon  opposite  the 
door. 

Here  he  stopped,  as  though  a  strong  hand  had  arrested 
him.  The  door,  which  opened  outwardly,  was  swinging 
on  its  hinges,  and  there  was  neither  light  nor  sound  from 
within.  At  another  time  this  might  not  have  alarmed  him  ; 
but  now,  with  the  Prophet's  words,  "  Your  mother  is  mad," 
still  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  by  a 
vague  terror.  Then,  before  he  could  collect  his  scattered 
thoughts,  two  figures,  which  in  the  increasing  darkness  he 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  55 

did  not  at  first  recognize,  ran  toward  him,  and  in  a  minute 
his  sisters  stood  beside  him. 

"  Oh,  Philip  !"  Blanche  exclaimed  breathlessly,  "  we 
have  run  so  fast,  and  we  were  afraid  mother  would  be 
angry  with  us  for  staying  so  late  ;  but  indeed  we  could  not 
help  it," 

"  Why,  where  have  you  been  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  only  for  a  ride  with  Brother  White  and  George 
and  Dolly.  We  had  gone  around  the  comer  just  for  a  lit- 
tle walk,  when  Brother  White  came  along  with  his  wagon 
and  told  us  to  jump  in.  We  said  we  must  ask  mother  first, 
but  he  told  us  he  stopped  at  the  house  and  asked  for  us, 
and  she  said  we  might  go.  Then  we  rode — oh,  ever  so  far ; 
and  when  we  got  back  to  his  house  he  took  us  out  and 
told  us  to  run  home  as  fast  as  we  could." 

"  You  did  very  wrong  to  go  without  asking  mother  your- 
self," Philip  said  severely,  and  yet  hardly  knowing  why  he 
blamed  his  sisters.  "  Come,  let  us  go  in.  Poor  mother  is 
alone,  and  has  no  light.  The  candles  must  be  all  gone. 
I  forgot  to  ask  this  morning  ;"  and  with  a  feeling  of  self- 
reproach,  much  too  poignant  for  the  apparently  slight 
cause,  he  led  his  sisters  to  the  open  door. 

Within  all  was  silent  and  dark. 

"  Mother,"  he  called  gently. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Mother  !  Oh,  mother  !  Where  are  you  ?"  all  three 
cried,  this  time,  aloud,  and  in  terrified  tones. 

Still  there  was  no  response. 

'*  Where  can  she  be  ?  Oh,  something  dreadful  must 
have  happened  !"  Catherine  exclaimed,  and  Blanche  began 
to  cry. 

"  Hush,  girls,"  Philip  said  authoritatively,  though  his 
own  voice  trembled  a  little.  * '  I  have  a  match  in  my 
pocket,  and  will  make  a  light.    Catherine,  you  feel  for 


56  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

some  paper  on  the  box  by  the  door,  while  I  gather  a  few 
splinters." 

In  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  with  the  exercise  of  much 
care  lest  the  one  match  should  go  out,  the  splinters  were 
lighted,  and  Philip,  taking  a  couple  of  them  in  his  hand, 
entered  the  cabin,  followed  by  his  trembling  sisters. 

Everything  was  just  as  when  they  left  in  the  afternoon. 
Their  mother's  bed  was  undisturbed,  and  her  hood  and 
shawl  hung  on  a  nail  above  it.  Philip  drew  aside  the 
blanket  which  served  as  a  partition  between  the  front  room 
and  the  shed  in  the  rear.  That,  too,  was  silent  and 
empty. 

"  Mother  is  lost,"  Blanche  said,  still  crying. 

"  You  talk  like  a  silly  child,"  Philip  answered  sharply. 
*'  We  all  stayed  away  so  late  she  did  not  like  being  alone, 
and  she  has  gone  to  Sister  Woodford's." 

"  Then,"  said  practical  Catherine,  "  why  did  she  leave 
her  hood  and  shawl  ?" 

Philip  was  about  to  answer  when  he  made  the  discovery 
that  the  splinters  he  carried  would  not  burn  a  minute  longer, 
and  Catherine,  who  thought  she  remembered  seeing  a  can- 
dle in  the  box  that  served  them  tor  a  cupboard,  began  to 
search  for  it. 

"  Here  it  is,"  she  exclaimed  presently.  "  Now,  at  any 
rate,  we  shall  not  be  in  the  dark." 

When  the  candle  was  lighted  Philip  said, 

"  Girls,  you  must  stay  here  quietly  while  I  run  over  to 
Sister  Woodford's.  I  will  not  be  gone  long,  and  you  can 
fasten  the  door  till  I  come  back." 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  they  heard  a  step 
outside,  and  Sister  Purdy  appeared  at  the  open  door  and 
began  to  make  hurried  excuses  for  being  so  late  ;  but 
noticing  Philip's  pale  face  and  his  sisters'  frightened  looks 
she  stopped  short,  and  exclaimed, 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  57 

"  Why,  children,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter,  and  where 
is  your  mother  ?"  glancing  past  them  into  the  empty  room. 

"  Mother  has  gone  to  Sister  Woodford's,  I  think,"  Philip 
said. 

' '  She  has  not,  for  1  stopped  in  there  myself  as  I  was  com- 
ing down  ;  I  don't  see  what  you  were  all  thinking  of  to 
leave  her," 

Philip  checked  the  incautious  woman  by  a  whispered 
word,  and  then  said  aloud, 

"  Sister  Purdy,  if  you  will  stay  here  with  the  girls,  I  will 
go  and  find  my  mother." 

He  spoke  quietly,  but  his  heart  throbbed  so  it  almost 
seemed  to  him  that  the  others  could  hear  its  beating  ;  and 
not  daring  to  trust  himself  to  utter  another  word,  he  hur- 
ried out  into  the  darkness. 

He  was  only  a  boy,  and  he  loved  his  mother  dearly.  It 
harm  had  come  to  her,  was  he  not  to  blame  for  taking  so 
little  care  of  her  ?  Why  did  he  not  beg  the  Prophet  to 
allow  Pierre  Roche  and  the  faithful  Joan  to  stay  with  them  ? 
The  Prophet  loved  him  like  a  father,  so  he  kept  saying  to 
himself,  and  would  not  refuse  anything  he  might  ask. 

Bitter  self-reproach  mingled  with  the  grief  and  dread 
that  oppressed  him  ;  but  he  never  for  a  moment  dreamed 
of  reproaching  his  leader,  to  whom  he  was  now  hurrying 
as  fast  as  his  trembling  limbs  would  carry  him.  To-night, 
as  in  every  other  trouble  of  his  life,  he  turned  to  this  hard, 
remorseless  man,  who,  to  him,  was  always  so  tender,  and 
whom  he  regarded  as  almost  divine. 

The  Prophet  listened  with  an  air  of  profound  solicitude 
to  Philip's  hurried  and  agitated  recital,  and  as  he  finished 
sighed  heavily. 

"  That  which  I  have  feared  so  long  has  happened  at 
last,"  he  said.  "  Your  mother  has  wandered  away,  at 
the  very  time  when  I  was  planning  to  guard  against  such 


S*  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

a  thing.  Sister  Purdy  is  much  to  blame  for  not  going  to 
her  at  an  early  hour  as  I  directed  ;  but,  my  dear  boy, 
don't  be  too  much  cast  down.  I  will  have  the  settlement 
searched  thoroughly,  and  will  send  parties  of  men  beyond 
the  limits  to  look  for  her  in  every  direction." 

"  Will  some  one  start  out  with  me  now  ?"  Philip  asked 
eagerly. 

"You  could  not  do  a  great  deal  to  help,"  was  the 
answer.  "  You  lay  your  trouble  too  much  to  heart.  Go 
home  and  take  care  of  your  sisters,  and  leave  the  search  to 
me.     You  know  I  will  do  everything  that  can  be  done." 

With  this  assurance  Philip  was  forced  to  content  him- 
self. He  had  never  disobeyed  the  Prophet  or  questioned 
his  decisions,  and  he  could  not  begin  now  ;  so  with  a  heavy 
heart  he  returned  to  the  cabin  to  wait  and  watch  alone 
through  the  long  hours  of  the  night,  after  his  sisters  had 
sobbed  themselves  to  sleep  ;  for  Sister  Purdy  left  as  soon 
as  he  came  in. 

There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  there,  she  said,  and  she 
might  learn  something  by  inquiring  around. 

The  night  seemed  endless  to  the  lonely  watcher.  He 
was  so  young,  barely  sixteen  ;  and  though  he  had  known 
sorrow  before,  he  had  never  been  called  to  bear  anything 
so  hard  as  this.  Long  before  dawn  the  single  candle 
burned  low  in  the  socket  that  held  it,  and  went  out.  Then 
he  watched  the  stars  and  waited  for  day,  his  ear  strained 
meantime  to  catch  every  sound. 

With  the  first  hour  of  daylight  a  messenger  came  from 
the  Prophet's  own  household.  The  settlement  had  been 
thoroughly  searched  long  before  midnight,  he  said,  and  at 
daylight  parties  of  men  had  gone  out  in  every  direction, 
through  the  valley  in  the  foot-hills,  and  toward  the  Jordan. 
As  soon  as  either  party  found  any  trace  to  follow,  they 
would    send  a  man  back  to  the  settlement  with  word ; 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  59 

meantime  the  Prophet  especially  required  Philip  not  to  be 
anxious  or  alarmed.  They  were  all  doing  their  best,  and 
without  doubt  his  mother  would  be  home  before  many 
hours. 

The  messenger  brought  a  basket  of  provisions  and  other 
necessaries,  and  added  many  kind  and  sympathizing  words 
on  his  own  account.  Philip  needed  all  the  comfort  that 
was  offered  him.  He  looked  haggard  and  ill  after  his  long 
night-watch,  and  when  his  sisters  waked  and  found  their 
mother  still  away,  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  soothe  and 
quiet  them. 

Blanche  cried  incessantly,  and  Catherine  made  remarks 
quite  in  keeping  with  her  temperament,  which  shocked 
and  distressed  her  brother. 

"  Mother  hasn't  been  ten  steps  from  the  door  since  we 
came  here,"  she  declared,  "and  she  wouldn't  go  away 
from  the  house  unless  somebody  took  her.  Besides,  if  she 
went  out  of  the  settlement  she  had  to  go  past  some  of  the 
houses  ;  and  don't  you  suppose  they  would  notice  her, 
walking  bareheaded,  and  with  her  silk  wrapper  on  ?  That 
was  the  dress  she  wore  yesterday,  and  all  her  other  dresses 
are  here,  and  her  shawl,  and  everything.  There's  nothing 
gone  except  what  she  had  on  when  she  sat  in  that  chair," 
pointing  as  she  spoke  to  her  mother's  empty  seat,  at  the 
sight  of  which  Blanche's  sobs  grew  louder. 

Catherine  was  three  years  younger  than  her  brother,  but 
tall  and  well  developed  ;  almost  a  woman  already  in  ap- 
pearance. Her  mind,  too,  seemed  of  late  to  have  matured 
rapidly,  and  she  often  surprised  those  around  her  by  the 
expression  of  ideas  quite  in  advance  of  her  years.  She  had, 
moreover,  as  we  have  previously  noticed  in  these  pages, 
her  mother's  spirit,  and  she  had  imbibed  from  her  a  dis- 
trust of  the  Prophet  and  his  teachings.  Now,  in  spite  of 
her  brother's  efforts  to  check  her,  she  continued  to  express 


6o  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

her  opinion  that  her  mother  never  left  the  house  alone,  and 
that  nobody  had  taken  much  pains  to  find  her. 

*'  Catherine,"  Philip  said  at  length,  when  at  the  end  of 
all  patience,  "  if  anybody  is  to  blame  it  is  yourself,  I  left 
you  here  to  take  care  of  mother.  You  knew  she  was  sick 
and  needed  you,  and  you  ought  not  to  have  gone  outside 
the  door  until  I  came  back." 

This  reproach  silenced  the  girl,  who  loved  hermotner 
above  everything,  and  who  had  all  the  time  been  secretly 
blaming  herself  for  leaving  her  alone,  though  when  she 
went  out  with  Blanche  the  day  before,  it  was  at  her 
mother's  request. 

Meanwhile  the  day  was  passing,  and  there  was  no  news 
from  any  of  the  parties  who  were  supposed  to  be  search- 
ing the  valley  ;  but  late  in  the  afternoon  Philip  was  again 
summoned  to  the  Prophet's  residence.  This  time  he  was 
received  with  expressions  of  the  deepest  sympathy,  and 
with  an  exhortation  to  lift  up  his  heart  in  prayer  for 
strength  to  bear  whatever  might  come. 

"It  was  not  until  past  noon,"  the  Prophet  said,  "that 
we  got  the  least  clew  to  follow.  Then  Miles  Hay  ward,  the 
trapper,  who  was  leading  the  search  in  the  direction  of  the 
river,  came  upon  foot-prints  here  and  there.  The  marks 
were  those  of  a  woman's  foot,  small  and  delicate,  but  the 
track  was  not  easy  to  follow,  on  account  of  the  bunch-grass 
and  the  loose  sand.  Still,  as  all  the  marks  seemed  to  point 
toward  the  river,  they  thought  they  could  not  do  better 
than  to  follow  it  up  and  down,  and  in  the  willows  near  the 
bank  Miles  found  this." 

He  took  something  from  the  table,  unfolded  it,  and  held 
it  up  before  Philip's  eyes.  It  was  a  fine  cambric  handker- 
chief with  a  monogram  in  the  corner.  Philip  knew  it  only 
too  well,  and  reached  out  his  hand  for  it  with  a  cry  of 
anguish. 


MYSTERY  BEGINS.  6l 

"Stop,"  the  Prophet  added,  retaining  the  frail  token; 
"  I  have  more  to  tell  you. 

"  Near  the  place  where  the  handkerchief  was  found, 
there  were  more  foot-prints,  and  just  at  the  water's  edge 
the  bank  was  broken,  as  though  by  some  person  slipping 
down. 

"  Now,  my  dear  boy,  I  have  done  my  duty.  I  shall  pray 
for  you,  and  all  the  people  are  praying  now  that  you  may 
have  strength  to  bear  your  affliction  ;  but  more  than  this 
we  cannot  do.  A  dozen  men  are  already  dragging  the 
river,  in  the  hope  of  recovering  your  mother's  body,  but  if 
they  fail  (and  I  own  I  fear  they  will  fail),  try  to  be  re- 
signed to  the  will  of  God.  It  is  in  times  of  trouble  that  the 
true  Latter  Day  Saint  shows  the  strength  of  his  faith.  Go 
home  now  to  your  sisters,  and  comfort  them,  and  let  every- 
body see  that  your  religion  is  worth  something." 


CHAPTER  V. 

CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE. 

Meantime,  where  was  Louise  La  Tour,  the  daughter  for 
Arhose  sake  the  mother  had  risked  all,  and,  as  it  seemed, 
lost  all  ? 

She  was  not  in  the  valley,  nor  had  she  been  there.  She 
had  remained  with  those  followers  of  the  Prophet  who  had 
temporary  homes  east  of  the  Missouri  ;  but  in  order  to 
understand  her  condition  and  surroundings  it  will  be 
necessary  to  go  back  to  the  time  of  her  father's  death.* 

To-day,  men  and  women  who  were  among  the  disciples 
of  the  Prophet  Joseph  in  his  lifetime,  but  who  have  since 
then  renounced  Mormonism,  account  for  the  influence  of 
this  man,  coarse,  ignorant,  and  wicked  as  he  was,  over  a 
multitude  of  followers  of  a  far  different  character,  by  say- 
ing that  he  possessed  wonderful  mesmeric  powers. 

While  he  lived,  his  strange  gifts  were  supposed  by  them 
to  be  supernatural ;  and  men  whose  sense  of  right  com- 
pelled them  to  denounce  the  wickedness  which  they  after- 
ward discovered  in  him  were  at  a  loss  to  account  for  what 
had  seemed  miraculous  powers,  conferred  on  him  from 
above. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  secret  of  this  power,  the 
fact,  which  cannot  be  disproved,  remains  on  record,  that  for 
many  years  he  exercised  an  almost  unlimited  influence 
over  persons  who  were  greatly  his  superiors  in  mind  and 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  D,  page  333. 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  63 

education,  and  whose  previous  lives  had  been  irreproach- 
able. 

When  the  doctrine  of  Celestial  Marriage  was  first  taught 
by  him,  many  of  those  who  listened  to  his  teachings  sup- 
posed that  they  referred  to  a  union  purely  spiritual ;  and 
when  the  truth  at  length  came  out,  numbers  forsook  and 
denounced  him,  but  among  those  who  remained  his  adher- 
ents there  were  hundreds  whose  motives  and  character  had 
hitherto  been  above  suspicion.  And,  stranger  than  all, 
many  of  the  women  who  became  his  plural  wives  were  of 
good  families  and,  up  to  that  time,  of  unblemished  fame. 

Wives  whose  fidelity  to  their  husbands  had  never  been 
questioned,  and  young  girls  who  had  been  watched  over 
from  infancy  by  Christian  mothers,  were  among  his  earli- 
est victims. 

When  Louise  La  Tour  became  a  member  of  his  house- 
hold she  was  only  fifteen.  She  had  been  carefully  brought 
up  and  tenderly  watched  over  by  both  parents,  and  in 
heart  and  mind  was  still  a  child,  as  ignorant  of  evil  as  her 
five-year-old  sister  Blanche.  In  stature,  however,  she  was 
a  woman,  and  already  the  perfect  outlines  of  her  supple 
form,  the  contour  of  her  lovely  face,  the  soft  rose-tints  of  her 
cheek,  and  the  liquid  luster  of  her  dark  eyes  made  a  pic- 
ture so  fair  to  look  upon  that,  had  not  the  mother  been  blind 
to  the  fact  that  the  child  who  was  but  yesterday  in  the 
nursery  was  no  longer  a  child  to  any  except  herself,  she 
would  never  have  risked  such  priceless  treasure  unguarded 
for  an  hour. 

Louise,  who  saw  the  Prophet  only  through  the  medium 
ot  her  father's  faith,  was  all  docility  and  obedience  when 
placed  in  his  care,  and  at  first  received  whatever  he  taught 
without  question. 

When  he  told  her  that,  to  secure  her  future  salvation,  she 
must  be  "  sealed"  to  him  for  eternity,  and  that  it  was  her 


64  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

father's  dying  request,  she  consented   to  the    ceremony, 
without  understanding  in  the  least  what  it  meant. 

When  she  received  the  first  intimation  of  the  Prophet's 
real  designs,  she  was  in  a  room  in  the  Endowment  House, 
to  which  she  had  been  carried  in  a  fainting  state.  The 
barbarous  rites  in  which  she  was  forced  to  participate,  and 
the  fearful  oaths  she  was  compelled  to  take,*  had  the  effect 
of  paralyzing  her  faculties,  and  long  before  the  conclusion 
of  the  ceremonies  (which  lasted  eight  hours  without  inter- 
mission) she  was  nearly  insensible  through  fatigue  and 
terror. 

♦  **»»»♦ 

Even  to  her  mother  Louise  could  not  repeat  the  history 
of  the  weeks  that  followed  that  dreadful  day.  She  was  in 
the  power  of  her  destroyer.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  held 
her,  body  and  soul,  and  when  her  mother  came  to  take 
her  away,  she  had  sunk  into  the  lethargy  of  despair,  and 
prayed  for  nothing  but  death. 

Madame  La  Tour  saw  that  her  child  was  ill  and 
wretched,  but  she  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  true 
cause  until  the  day  when  the  Prophet  claimed  Louise  as 
his  wife.  Then,  as  we  have  seen,  her  plans  for  escaping 
from  Nauvoo  with  her  family  were  frustrated,  and  they 
were  compelled  to  remain  with  the  Mormons  until  they  fied 
westward. 

On  the  day  that  the  fugitives  crossed  the  Mississippi,  the 
greatest  confusion  prevailed  in  their  ranks,  and  no  better 
time  could  have  been  chosen  for  the  abduction  of  Louise, 
which  had  been  resolved  upjon  months  before. 

It  is  a  historical  fact,  perfectly  well  authenticated,  that 
the  large  number  of  women  who  were  sealed  to  the 
Prophet  Joseph  during  the  last  two  years  of  his  life  were 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  E,  page  333. 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  6$ 

divided  after  his  death  among  those  nearest  him  in  office, 
and  that  such  as  were  thought  most  desirable  were  appro- 
priated by  Brigham  Young,  the  Prophet's  successor,  and 
by  Heber  C.  Kimball,  his  First  Councilor. 

The  unhappy  Louise  was  apportioned  to  Kimball,  a 
coarse,  brutal  wretch,  whose  name  deserves  to  be  handed 
down  to  everlasting  infamy.  The  promise  from  Brigham 
Young,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  add  her  to  the  num- 
ber of  his  wives,  was  quite  sufficient  to  induce  him  to  take 
all  the  risks  attendant  on  carrying  her  off,  and  months 
before  the  exodus  from  Nauvoo  he  had  a  place  prepared 
for  her  in  Iowa,  where  many  of  the  fugitive  Mormons  found 
temporary  homes. 

Louise's  prison  (for  such  it  proved  to  be)  was  a  three- 
roomed  log-cabin  in  a  small  clearing.  The  building,  though 
rudely  constructed,  was  tolerably  comfortable  and  well 
furnished,  and  she  was  told  that  her  mother  and  the  chil- 
dren would  make  it  their  home  for  a  time. 

For  a  couple  of  months  she  saw  nothing  of  Kimball,  and 
knew  nothing  of  the  motives  of  those  who  brought  her  to 
the  place.  Like  her  mother,  she  at  first  supposed  that  her 
separation  from  her  family  was  accidental,  and  as  she  was 
kindly  treated  by  the  couple  who  had  charge  of  the  cabin 
she  felt  no  uneasiness  except  that  caused  by  not  seeing  her 
mother  as  soon  as  she  expected. 

When  Kimball  at  length  found  time  to  visit  his  captive, 
and  the  knowledge  of  the  fate  to  which  she  had  been  con- 
signed burst  upon  her,  the  shock  was  too  much  for  her  rea- 
son, and  for  many  weeks  she  raved  in  delirium. 

The  brute  to  whom,  according  to  the  decree  of  the  new 
Prophet,  she  was  now  bound  for  life,  took  a  savage  pleas- 
ure in  making  her  feel  that  he  was  her  master,  and  that 
she  was  wholly  in  his  hands,  without  the  faintest  hope  o| 
escape  or  redress. 


•6  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

During  the  whole  time  that  her  mother  and  brothers  re- 
mained in  the  Mormon  settlement  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Missouri,  she  lived  in  this  cabin,  not  fifty  miles  from  them, 
as  ignorant  of  their  fate  as  they  were  of  hers.  Kimball 
visited  her  frequently  during  the  first  year,  but  long  before 
the  end  of  the  second  year  he  grew  tired  of  her,  and  when  in 
the  summer  of  1848  she  was  taken  across  the  Missouri  to 
foin  the  second  company  of  emigrants  to  Salt  Lake  valley, 
she  had  not  seen  him  for  months. 

The  unspeakable  fear  and  loathing  with  which  she  looked 
forward  to  his  coming  never  failed  to  make  her  ill  when 
the  time  at  which  she  expected  him  drew  near,  and  at  the 
close  of  her  first  year's  imprisonment  no  one  would  have 
recognized  in  the  pallid,  hollow-eyed,  wasted  woman  who 
still  answered  to  the  name  Louise,  the  beautiful  girl  whom 
her  mother  remembered  so  fondly. 

Now,  however,  six  months'  respite  from  his  hated  visits, 
together  with  the  dawning  hope  that  he  had  grown  tired 
of  her  and  would  come  no  more,  seemed  to  have  given  her 
a  new  lease  of  life,  and  with  returning  health  a  little  of 
her  old  beauty  and  spirit  came  back  also. 

Kimball  was  not  in  the  company  with  which  Louise  was 
to  cross  the  plains.  He  had  gone  on  with  the  first  train, 
taking  several  of  his  wives  with  him. 

As  those  who  knew  him  best  will  testify,  he  had  one 
good  trait — that  of  providing  abundantly  for  the  physical 
comfort  of  all  dependent  on  him.  His  numerous  families 
were  always  well  housed,  well  fed,  and  well  clothed,  and 
Louise's  custodians,  John  Burch  and  the  woman  who  held 
the  relation  to  him  of  fourth  wife,  were  supplied  with 
everything  necessary  for  themselves  and  their  charge  upon 
the  journey.  When  they  reached  Salt  Lake  they  found 
comfortable  quarters  ready  for  them  ;  but  Louise  was  kept 
a  closer  prisoner  than  when  in  Iowa.     Kimball  did  not 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  67 

come  near  her  that  autumn,  nor  the  following  winter,  and 
for  many  months  she  saw  no  one  except  her  jailers.  She 
was  still  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  her  family,  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  took  place  in  the  settlement. 

The  slow  months  followed  each  other,  with  nothing  to 
mark  their  lapse  except  the  change  from  autumn  to  winter, 
and  from  winter  to  spring — changes  which  she  watched 
wearily  from  the  one  window  of  her  room.  Once  a  day, 
when  the  weather  permitted,  she  took  a  short  walk  with 
her  keepers  along  a  solitary  path  leading  to  the  bench 
north  of  the  settlement.  She  met  no  one  during  these 
walks,  and  had  she  done  so  she  would  not  have  thought  of 
making  any  appeal  for  help.  She  knew  that  she  was  in  the 
heart  of  the  wilderness,  a  thousand  miles  from  the  borders 
of  civilization,  and  that  the  only  human  beings  near  her 
were  the  slaves  of  the  Prophet,  whom  she  believed  to  be  the 
author  of  her  past  sufferings  and  her  present  imprisonment. 

All  hope  of  escape  had  long  since  died  within  her,  and  she 
had  nothing  left  to  look  forward  to  except  the  possibility  of 
meeting  her  mother,  whom  she  felt  sure  the  Prophet  would 
yet  find  means  to  bring  to  the  valley,  if  he  had  not  already 
done  so. 

The  winter  which,  mild  and  short  as  it  was,  seemed  in- 
terminable to  the  captive  girl,  came  to  an  end  at  last. 
With  the  opening  of  spring  the  whole  settlement  was  alive 
with  the  work  of  preparation  for  planting  a  large  area  of 
ground.  An  additional  immigration  of  several  thousand 
souls  was  expected  early  in  the  summer,  and  as  the  colony 
was  forced  to  depend  mainly  on  the  season's  crop  for  food, 
the  entire  laboring  force  of  the  settlement  was  taxed  to  its 
utmost  during  the  process  of  breaking  ground  and  putting 
in  the  seed. 

At  this  time  Louise's  keepers  were  also  fully  occupied 
with  outdoor  work,  and  as  she  showed  no  disposition  to 


68  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

wander  off,  she  was  allowed  the  liberty  of  the  house  and 
lot.  The  ground  belonging  to  the  cabin  was  not  inclosed, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  mark  the  existence  of  a  street 
near  it  except  the  path  mentioned  before,  which  led  up  to 
the  foot-hills.  Late  one  afternoon  in  March,  when  Burch 
and  the  woman  who  kept  the  house  were  away,  Louise  was 
sauntering  listlessly  about  the  borders  of  the  spot  of  ground 
that  had  been  plowed  for  a  garden,  when  she  saw  a 
slender,  girlish  figure  hurrying  down  the  path  toward  the 
cabin. 

There  was  something  strangely  familiar  in  the  outlines 
of  this  figure,  in  the  poise  of  the  head,  and  the  free,  alert 
movements — something  that  made  Louise's  heart  beat 
quickly,  and  drew  her  toward  the  path. 

The  person  she  was  watching  came  a  few  steps  farther 
in  the  direction  of  the  cabin,  then  turned  and  seemed 
about  to  take  another  way,  when  Louise,  hardly  knowing 
what  she  did,  called, 

"  Catherine  !" 

The  girl  stopped  abruptly,  turned  round  and  looked  to 
see  from  whom  the  call  came,  then  moved  toward  the 
speaker  in  a  hesitating  manner. 

"  Did  you  call  me  ?"  she  asked. 

Louise,  without  a  thought  of  consequences,  sprang 
across  the  ditch  that  divided  the  garden  from  the  common, 
and  hurried  to  the  spot  where  she  stood. 

"  Catherine  !  Sister  !  Don't  you  know  me  ?"  she  said, 
holding  out  her  hands. 

"  Louise  !    Ma  belle  sceur  /" 

The  language  of  their  childhood  sprang  unbidden  to  the 
lips  of  the  younger  girl,  as  with  a  glad  cry  she  threw  her- 
self into  her  sister's  arms. 

It  was  some  moments  before  either  spoke  again.  Then 
Louise,  with  a  caution  born  of  experience,  cast  her  eyes  in 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  69 

every  direction  in  search  of  a  possible  witness  of  their 
meeting.  No  one  was  in  sight,  and  winding  her  arm 
about  her  sister,  she  said, 

"  Come,  chirie,  let  us  go  into  the  house.  I  am  all  alone, 
and  I  can  see  from  the  window  if  any  one  comes,  and  let 
you  out  of  the  back  door." 

"  Poor  sister  !  Then  you  have  to  watch  and  listen  too. 
I  am  learning  to  do  so  ;  but  I  don't  like  it  one  bit.  When 
I  begin  to  talk  about  anything,  Philip  says, '  Hush  !  some 
one  might  hear  you,'  or  '  Look  out  !  there  is  somebody 
coming  ! '  " 

By  this  time  the  girls  had  reached  the  cabin.  Louise 
drew  her  sister  into  her  own  room,  carefully  closing  both 
doors  after  her.  When  they  were  seated  she  clasped 
Catherine's  hands,  and  with  her  whole  heart  in  her  face  and 
voice  asked, 

"  Our  mother  ?    Is  she  here  ?    Is  she  well  ?" 

It  was  a  hard  question,  but  Catherine  answered  it  more 
wisely  than  many  an  older  person  might  have  done. 

"  I  believe  mother  is  here  and  well  ;  yet  I  don't  know  in 
what  house  she  is.  But  see  !  I  did  not  know  in  what 
house  you  were  until  now. " 

"Tell  me  all  that  you  do  know,"  Louise  urged,  with 
feverish  eagerness,  holding  her  sister's  hands  so  tightly 
that  she  hurt  them. 

"  I  will,  but  first — ^you  do  not  believe  in  the  Prophet,  as 
Philip  does  ?" 

"  Believe  in  him  f    No  !" 

Something  of  her  old  spirit  flushed  Louise's  cheeks  and 
gleamed  in  her  dark  eyes  as  she  gave  this  answer. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that ;  and  now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  know 
and  what  I  think.  We  came  here  with  the  train  from  win- 
ter quarters  early  last  summer.  Mother  was  sick  at  first, 
but  she  got  better,  so  that  she  could  walk  about  the  house 


70  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR, 

and  lot.  We  were  not  very  comfortable,  for  our  things 
were  all  in  the  tithing-yard,  and  they  would  not  let  us  have 
them.  Philip  had  to  go  up  every  day,  nearly,  and  ask  for 
a  little  something  that  we  were  obliged  to  use. 

"  One  day,  when  he  was  gone,  mother  told  me  to  take 
Blanche  out  for  a  walk.  We  meant  to  be  back  in  half  an 
hour,  but  when  we  were  out  of  sight  of  the  house  Brother 
White  came  along  with  his  children  in  a  wagon,  and  told 
us  mother  said  we  might  ride  with  him. 

"  I  thought  then  that  he  told  the  truth  ;  but  now  I  believe 
it  was  something  made  up,  and  you  will  see  why.  He  took 
us  a  long  way  from  the  settlement,  and  did  not  bring  us 
back  till  after  dark.  When  we  got  home  we  met  Philip  at 
the  door  (the  Prophet  had  kept  him  till  after  dark  too),  and 
mother  was  gone.  They  pretended  to  believe  that  she  was 
out  of  her  mind,  and  had  wandered  away  to  the  river  and 
been  drowned — said  they  found  her  handkerchief  on  the 
bank,  and  I  don't  know  what  else.  I  did  not  believe  it  at 
the  time,  and  the  next  week  little  Benny  Spiers  said  to  me, 

*'  *  I  was  playing  below  the  hill  when  your  mother  went 
away,  and  I  saw  her.     Brother  Atwood  was  with  her.' 

"  I  hushed  the  child  up,  for  I  knew  it  would  be  a  bad 
thing  for  him  and  for  me  if  it  was  found  out  that  he  had 
told  me  such  a  thing. 

"  I  have  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  to  Philip  nor 
Blanche  ;  but  in  my  heart  I  am  sure  that  mother  is  alive 
and  somewhere  in  this  country,  though  maybe  not  in  this 
settlement ;  and  I  mean  to  keep  looking  for  her  till  I  find 
her,  if  it  takes  years  and  years. ' ' 

Louise  heard  her  sister  through  without  attempting  to  in- 
terrupt her.  When  the  story  was  finished,  she  sat  silent, 
her  face  white  and  rigid,  her  large  dark  eyes  unnaturally 
bright. 

"  Why  do  you  look  so  strangely  ?"  exclaimed  Catherine. 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  71 

"  You  need  not  feel  as  though  what  the  people  say  might 
be  true.     Mother  is  alive,  and  we  shall  find  her." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  petite  sceur.  Mother  is  alive,  or 
if—" 

Louise  stopped.  The  dark  suspicion  that  had  crossed 
her  mind  must  not  be  breathed  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to 
her  young  sister,  who  was  comforted  and  upheld  by  the 
hope  of  finding  the  mother  alive  and  well. 

"  Tell  me  something  more,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  "  I  cannot  understand  why  mother  came  here. 
Surely  it  was  not  her  own  wish." 

"  No,  it  was  not.  I  know  something  about  that  which  I 
cannot  tell  to  Philip.  On  that  last  day  at  winter  quarters, 
when  everybody  was  getting  ready  to  start,  the  Prophet 
came  to  our  house.  Mother  was  alone  in  the  front  room, 
but  I  was  in  the  little  shed  at  the  back,  and  I  heard  him 
tell  her  that  she  might  see  you  here,  but  never  anywhere 
else.     That  is  why  she  came." 

"  And  our  brothers,  Charles  and  Francis,  are  they  here 
too  ?" 

"No.  They  left  winter  quarters  before  we  did.  They 
are  somewhere  west  of  this  place,  with  the  Gentiles.  They 
think  of  the  Prophet  just  as  you  and  I  do." 

The  sisters  talked  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  Louise  evad- 
ing a  direct  reply  to  any  of  Catherine's  questions  relating 
to  herself.  Then,  as  the  sun  sank  lower,  and  the  time  of 
her  keeper's  return  drew  near,  she  repeated  her  caution  not 
to  let  any  one  know  of  their  meeting,  and  sent  her  sister 
away  by  another  path  in  the  rear  of  the  cabin.  \ 

Catherine  was  to  come  up  the  hill  again  the  next  day  if 
possible,  and  Louise  was  to  let  her  know,  by  a  sign  agreed 
upon,  whether  it  would  be  safe  for  her  to  venture  near  the 
house. 

That  night,  as  it  happened,  John  Burch  was  to  sptend 


72  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

with  one  of  his  other  wives,  and  the  woman  Hannah  cam»? 
home  alone,  and  in  a  rather  despondent  mood.  She  was  a 
simple-minded  creature,  who  had  been  sealed  to  Burch  be- 
cause she  thought  her  salvation  depended  on  him,  and  who 
manifested  a  dog-like  attachment  and  fidelity  to  the  master, 
who  treated  her  much  as  he  might  have  done  if  he  had 
bought  her  in  the  market-place.  She  had  been  hard  at 
work  all  day  with  him  in  the  field,  and  would  have  counted 
it  a  privilege  to  cook  his  supper  and  wait  on  him  at  night ; 
but  of  course  it  was  quite  right  that  he  should  go  over  to 
the  other  house,  where  Abigail  and  Sarah  were  living  with 
his  first  wife.  Abigail  had  one  boy,  and  Sarah  two,  and 
poor  Hannah  bewailed  her  own  childless  condition  as  she 
and  Louise  sat  alone  at  supper. 

*'  Brother  Brigham  says  it's  want  of  faith,"  she  observed. 
"  He  was  a-preachin'  only  last  Sunday  in  the  Bowery,  that 
if  a  woman  hed  all  the  faith  in  plurality  that  she  orter  hev, 
her  reproach  would  be  took  away,  an'  she'd  be  the 
mother  o'  thousens.  I've  prayed  an'  prayed  fur  more 
faith,  an'  I've  tried  an'  tried  to  be  reconciled  to  Brother 
Burch's  stayin'  over  to  t'other  house  so  much  as  he  does 
lately,  but  some  way  my  heart  ain't  right." 

Louise  felt  called  upon  to  offer  some  comfort  to  the  poor 
creature,  who  had  always  been  kind  to  her. 

"  You  are  doing  the  best  you  can,  Hannah,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  would  not  worry.  There  is  Eliza  Snow,  whom  you 
all  look  up  to.  She  has  no  children,  and  nobody  blames 
her  for  want  of  faith." 

"  Oh,  but.  Sister  Louise,"  the  woman  answered,  lower- 
ing her  voice  as  though  there  might  be  listeners  even  there, 
"  You  don't  know  all  that  I  do  about  Sister  'Liza.  You 
see  she  went  into  plurality  when  everybody  was  agin  it, 
an'  when  the  Gentiles  an'  the  law  an'  all  was  after  us. 
That  was  a  time  when  it  took  a  power  o'  faith  to  kerry  a 


CELESTIAL  MARRIAGE.  73 

woman  through,  an'  Sister  'Liza  hed  faith  ;  but  in  them 
days  the  sisters  that  was  in  plurality  didn't  dare  to  own 
their  children,  an'  the  trouble  that  Sister  'Liza  went 
through,  no  tongue  could  tell.  It  ain't  a  mite  of  wonder 
that  she  hain't  hed  no  children  sense." 

Hannah  was  growing  unusually  communicative,  and 
Louise  thought  that  by  drawing  her  out  she  might  learn 
something  to  her  own  advantage. 

"On  these  lonesome  evenings,"  she  suggested,  "I 
would  like  to  sit  with  you,  if  you  are  willing,  and  to  pass 
the  time  you  might  tell  me  something  of  the  sermons  at  the 
Bowery,  for  you  know  I  have  never  heard  one." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  think  of  that  afore.  'Twouldn't 
a'  bin  near  so  lonesome  for  neither  of  us.  But  after  this 
you're  goin'  to  the  Bowery  on  Sundays.  Them  was  the 
orders  Brother  Burch  got  yesterday." 

Louise  did  not  know  whether  this  change  boded  good  or 
ill.  If  she  was  to  have  her  liberty,  the  time  might  come 
when  she  could  meet  her  brother  and  sisters  unhindered  ; 
but  such  meetings,  if  allowed,  might  be  used  to  entrap 
them  or  herself  in  additional  difficulties. 

For  her  own  part  it  seemed  that  she  had  little  more  to 
fear.  Her  enemy  had  done  his  worst,  and  she  could  think 
of  no  deeper  pit  that  might  be  dug  for  her.  But  the 
others  !  She  thought  with  a  throb  of  fear  of  Catherine's 
beauty.  She  was  growing  tall  and  womanly  too.  Oh,  why 
had  she  ever  been  brought  here  ? 

Hour  after  hour,  during  the  long  night,  Louise  turned 
upon  her  sleepless  pillow,  calling  up  and  dismissing  one 
plan  after  another  for  escaping  from  the  valley  with  her 
sisters. 

She  did  not  share  Catherine's  belief  that  their  mother 
still  lived.  Induced  she  was  not  sure  that  she  wished  to  be- 
lieve it.     Better,  far  better,  that  she  should  be  dead  and 


74  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

safe  in  heaven,  than  alive  and  in  the  power  of  the  remorse- 
less, unpitying  tyrant  who  had  already  brought  such  mis- 
eries upon  them. 

But  the  girls,  her  innocent  sisters  !  It  seemed  almost  as 
though  she  could  hear  her  mother's  voice  bidding  her 
watch  over  them, 

Then  another  Voice,  one  that  had  saved  her  from  despair, 
whispered, 

*'  Fear  not,  tor  /am  with  thee." 

In  the  darkness  and  silence  of  the  night,  in  that  lonely 
cabin,  the  helpless  girl,  cut  off  from  all  human  succor  tor 
herself  or  those  she  loved,  turned  toward  the  unseen, 
mighty  Helper. 

She  had  drifted  far,  very  far,  but  not  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  Hand  that  built  these  mountain  walls,  which  had 
seemed  to  shut  her  in,  away  from  hope  or  help. 

*'  /am  with  thee." 

It  was  as  though  all  the  resources  of  heaven  and  earth 
had  been  placed  within  her  reach.  A  great  peace  fell  upon 
her,  and,  laying  her  head  once  more  upon  her  pillow, 
Louise  slept  as  she  had  not  slept  since  the  day  she  left  her 
mother's  rooL 


CHAPTER   VI. 

FORT Y-NI NERS  . 

The  sunny  August  day  was  wearing  to  a  close.  The 
scattered  clumps  of  fir  and  mountain-laurel  cast  long 
shadows  across  the  rocky  trail,  up  which  a  heavily-loaded 
wagon-train  was  slowly  winding. 

A  couple  of  women  and  half  a  dozen  very  young  children 
sat  on  rolls  of  blankets  in  front  of  the  canvas  covers,  but 
with  this  exception,  all  belonging  to  the  train — men, 
women,  and  children — toiled  up  the  steep  ascent  on  foot. 

It  was  a  rough  way  to  climb,  and  a  long  one,  but  all 
were  cheerful  and  hopeful,  for  the  fertile  valleys  of  Oregon 
lay  just  beyond,  and  the  stout-hearted  pioneers,  who  had 
traversed  the  prairies  and  forded  the  rivers  west  of  the 
Missouri  when  the  snows  began  to  melt,  crossed  the  Rocky 
Mountains  before  summer  had  softened  the  winds  that 
swept  down  from  their  peaks,  encountered  the  perils  of 
the  Desert,  threaded  with  alkali  streams — of  the  Snake 
Plains — and  the  bands  of  alert  and  dangerous  savages  on 
their  borders,  were  not  to  be  discouraged  by  any  difficul- 
ties so  near  the  journey's  end. 

Moreover,  the  summit  was  close  at  hand,  and  the  sun  yet 
two  hours  high.  If  they  pressed  forward  steadily  they  might 
view  the  land  of  promise  from  that  Pisgah  before  the  dark- 
ness hid  it,  although  it  was  not  promised  by  a  "  Prophet." 

The  women  of  the  company  fell  a  little  in  the  rear  of  the 
wagons.  The  children  made  frequent  excursions  into  the 
chapparal,  returning  with  their  arms  filled  with  flowers 
and  branches  of  blossoming  shrubs.     About  half  of  the 


76  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOVR. 

men  were  occupied  with  attending  to  the  teams  and  loose 
cattle  belonging  to  the  train.  The  remainder  walked, 
some  of  them  in  advance  of  the  wagons,  and  some  a  few 
yards  in  the  rear,  with  their  rifles  in  their  hands. 

At  the  head  of  the  advance  guard  two  young  men  paced 
side  by  side.  They  were  of  the  same  height  and  build,  and 
performed  the  difficult  feat  of  keeping  step  along  the 
rugged  trail  with  military  precision. 

Of  the  two  who  walked  behind  these,  one  was  a  tall, 
loose-jointed  Missourian,  clad  in  jeans,  and  carrying  a  gun 
as  long  as  himself.  The  other  was  a  small,  wiry  man, 
whose  grizzled  locks  were  covered  by  a  cap  of  panther- 
skin.  The  tail  of  the  panther  depended  from  the  rear  of 
the  cap,  serving  the  double  purpose  of  an  ornament  and  a 
trophy. 

His  buckskin  shirt  and  breeches  were  trimmed  with  a 
profusion  of  beads  and  fringes,  and  in  addition  to  such 
arms  as  the  others  carried,  a  tomahawk  with  a  handle  two 
feet  in  length  was  fastened  to  his  belt.  Just  now  his  keen 
black  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  summit  before  him,  as  he  ob- 
served to  his  companion, 

"  It  mought  be  a  bad  job  for  us  to  git  over  thar  jist 
dark,  with  all  these  wimmen  folks  on  our  hands.  Ef  I  was 
alone  on  the  trail,  I  wouldn't  see  a  mite  of  trouble  about 
the  time  of  day,  but  with  wimmin  an'  babies  to  take  care 
on,  I'd  like  a  few  hours  more  o*  daylight  to  look  for  Injun 
signs." 

The  Missourian,  who  answered  to  the  name  of  Long 
John,  gave  a  backward  glance  toward  the  men  nearest  the 
wagons. 

"  'Twouldn't  do  no  good  to  broach  that  idee  to  any  of 
them"  he  said.  "  You  an'  I  an'  the  boys  ahead,  bein' 
single  men,  hain't  so  much  to  lose  if  the  Shastas  should 
cut  up  rough,  but  them  that  owns  the  wimmen  an'  babies 


FORTY-NINERS.  77 

are  a  borrerin'  trouble  enough  without  our  sayin'  a  word 
to  help  the  thing  along. 

"  That's  so,"  assented  the  other  ;  "  but  it  mought  be  as 
well  to  speak  to  the  boys  about  bein'  on  the  look-out ;  I'll 
jist  mention  it  to  'em  anyhow  ;"  and  raising  his  voice  a  little 
he  called, 

"  La  Tour  !" 

Both  heads  turned  simultaneously. 

"  Thar,  I  knowed  it,"  he  chuckled.  "  It's  jist  the  same 
as  puUin"  the  string  that  ties  'em  together." 

In  response  to  his  signal  the  young  men  now  halted  foi 
him  and  the  Missourian  to  come  up  with  them. 

As  we  have  said,  they  were  exactly  of  a  size,  and  one 
face  was  so  like  the  other  that  it  seemed  as  if  their  own 
mother  would  not  have  been  able  to  distinguish  between 
them.  There  was  the  same  clear  olive  complexion,  the 
same  liquid  black  eyes,  soft  as  a  woman's,  and  the  same 
features.  Their  comrades  had  long  since  given  up  the 
effort  to  tell  them  apart  in  any  other  way  than  by  their 
dress.  Both  wore  gayly-braided  hunting-shirts,  but  the  one 
was  blue  and  the  other  gray.  As  they  stood  side  by  side, 
tall,  erect,  with  their  rifles  poised  lightly  over  their  shoul- 
ders, the  trapper's  eyes  dwelt  on  them  admiringly. 

"  If  them  two  was  gals  now,  what  a  fortin'  they'd  have 
in  their  faces,"  he  observed  sotto  voce  to  the  Missourian. 

"Yes,"  answered  Long  John  ;  "  but  neither  on  'em  car- 
ries a  gal's  heart  under  all  that  braidin'.  There  ain't  a 
man  in  this  train  that  I'd  rayther  have  with  me  in  a  life-an'- 
death  tussle  with  Injuns  or  any  other  varmints." 

"  That's  so,"  replied  the  trapper  heartily,  ignoring  the 
fact  that  his  own  merits  as  an  Indian  fighter  had  been 
passed  over.  "  They're  clear  grit,  both  on  'em,  an'  long- 
headed too,  for  yoangsters. " 

By  this  time  they  were  within  a  rq^  of  the  young  men. 


7*  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

who  advanced  a  little  to  meet  them,  still  keeping  side  by 
side. 

"  What  is  it,  comrades  ?"  asked  the  wearer  of  the  blue 
hunting-shirt. 

"The  matter  is,  Francis,  my  boy,"  answered  Long 
John,  "  that  we  want  to  take  a  observation  from  the  peak 
without  makin'  any  stir  in  the  train.  Carter,  here,  thinks 
that  ef  the  Shastas  air  goin'  to  cut  up  at  all,  we  kin  look 
out  for  'em  in  these  mountaings,  an'  we  four  kin  push  on  a 
little  ahead  an'  watch  fur  signs." 

"  All  right" — it  was  still  Francis  who  was  spokesman — 
"  but  see  the  sun.  We  have  no  time  to  lose.  Shall  we 
lead  on  ?" 

"Go  ahead,  boys,"  answered  the  trapper.  "We'll  be 
right  with  you." 

The  little  party  quickened  their  steps  until  a  bend  in  the 
trail  hid  the  wagons  from  them. 

"  I  don't  deny,"  said  the  trapper,  "  that  I'm  some  oneasy 
about  this  late  crossin'  of  the  divide,  but  jist  at  this  time 
the  Shastas  is  more  likely  to  be  on  their  huntin'-grounds 
than  on  the  war-path,  an'  they  hain't  troubled  last  year's 
emigration,  neither  on  the  way  nor  sence  they've  took  up 
their  land." 

"  Mebbe  that's  because  there  was  nigh  onto  three  hun- 
dred rifles,  an'  three  hundred  good  shots  to  use  'em,  in  last 
year's  emigration,"  observed  Long  John.  "  An  Injun  hez 
as  much  sense  as  a  white  man  about  takin'  too  many 
chances." 

"  There's  somethin'  in  that,  I  know,"  answered  the 
trapper  ;  "  but  then,  Injuns  hez  other  kinds  of  sense  too- 
more' n  they  git  credit  for.  They  don't,  ginerally  speakin*. 
go  on  the  war-path  for  nothin',  an'  they  know  what  good 
treatment  is.  Now,  most  folks  thinks  that  all  the  good  In- 
juns i§  six  foot  under  ground,  but  I've  lived  alongside  of 


FORTY-NINERS.  79 

*em  too  many  years  to  believe  that.  Jist  to  show  you  what 
I  mean,  I'll  give  you  a  little  experience  I  had  last  winter. 

"  I  was  trappin'  on  the  Rattone  Mountains,  an'  I'd  built 
me  as  tight  a  cabin  as  you'd  wish  to  see,  an'  had  every- 
thing comf  table.  One  night,  jist  as  I  was  cookin'  my 
supper,  two  Injuns  come  to  the  door,  an  old  one  an'  a  young 
one.  They  looked  more  beat  out  than  I  ever  see  Injuns 
look  afore.  They'd  been  out  a  follerin'  elk,  an'  had  the 
worst  kind  of  luck,  an'  the  old  Injun  had  had  a  fall  an' 
hurt  his  leg. 

"  I  took  'em  in,  cooked  'em  a  good  supper,  give  'em  my 
two  best  bar-skins  for  a  bed,  an'  sent  'em  off  in  the  momin* 
with  a  tip-top  breakfast  an'  provender  enough  to  last  'em 
that  day. 

"  Well,  about  a  month  afterward  the  same  thing  hap- 
pened to  me.  I  was  out  after  elk  ;  follered  'em  all  day 
with  no  luck,  made  the  best  shift  I  could  for  the  night,  an' 
next  mornin'  started  for  my  cabin,  but  lost  the  trail  some- 
how. 

*'  I  tramped  all  day,  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  an'  I  kin 
tell  you  it  wa'n't  much  of  a  pleasure  trip.  At  last,  when  I 
was  about  to  give  out  (for  to  make  bad  wuss,  the  weathei 
had  turned  colder  'n  the  North  Pole,  an'  it  was  a  snow- 
in'),  I  struck  a  wickiup  that  was  by  itself  in  a  little  gulch. 

"  I  didn't  know  what  kind  of  a  welcome  I'd  git,  but  the 
smoke  a-curlin'  from  the  top  was  sech  a  temptation  that  I 
jist  walked  right  up  to  it — an'  what  do  you  think  ?  it  was 
the  lodge  of  the  old  Injun  that  I'd  took  in  a  month  afore. 

"  Well,  you  may  say  what  you  like,  but  that  thar  Injun 
'  peared  as  glad  to  see  me  as  ef  I  was  his  brother.  He 
brought  me  right  in,  give  me  the  best  he  had  to  eat,  kep' 
me  over  night,  an'  sent  his  boy  with  me  for  a  guide  next 
day. ' ' 

*'  I  don't  dispute  that  there's  good  Injuns — a  few  of  'em 


So  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

— above  ground,  though,  bein'  so  scattered  like,  they  must 
have  a  powerful  lonesome  time, "  remarked  Long  John. 

"  I  can't  say  as  any  of  'em  ever  put  theirselves  out  to 
cook  my  vittles  for  me  ;  but  I've  seen  the  day  when  they 
mought  a'  took  my  skelp  as  easy  as  fallin"  off  a  log,  an'  they 
didn't  do  it.  It's  nigh  onto  two  years  ago  that  it  hap- 
pened, I  was  with  the  ox-train  that  was  haulin'  freight  to 
Santa  F^.  Me  an'  Tom  Bradshaw  was  the  extry  hands 
that  trip,  an'  we  was  full  three  miles  behind  the  train, 
a-drivin'  the  animals,  that  had  got  to  be  tender-footed. 

"  We  was  joggin'  along  careless  like,  thinkin'  mostly  of 
camp  an'  our  supper,  when  all  of  a  suddent  we  heard  a 
noise  like  thunder  or  the  tramp  of  the  biggest  kind  of  a 
herd  of  buffaloes,  an'  lookin'  away  off  to  our  right,  we  see 
a  terrible  cloud  o'  dust  a-risin.'  A  minute  afterward  a 
band  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  Injuns  galloped  out  of  the 
dust  an'  made  for  us.  Behind  'em,  as  fast  as  the  dust 
cleared  away,  we  could  see  more  Injuns,  all  of  'em  ridin' 
like  mad,  straight  onto  us.  If  ever  any  fellers'  hair  stood 
up,  it  was  mine  an'  Tom  Bradshaw's  jist  then,  an"  when 
the  head  Injuns  got  to  us,  they  jerked  their  ponies  up  till 
they  a' most  stood  straight  on  their  hind  feet,  an'  give  a 
yell — seems  as  ef  I  could  hear  it  now  !  The  screech  of  a 
thousand  painters  would  be  the  softest  kind  of  a  hush-a-by 
alongside  of  that  Apache  whoop  ;  for  they  was  Apaches, 
as  we  found  out  afterward  ;  somewhere  near  a  hundred 
young  warriors.  Our  poor,  tender-footed  cattle,  that  could 
hardly  creep  along,  was  that  scared  that  they  broke  into  a 
gallop,  an'  Tom  Bradshaw  an'  me  jist  stood  stock  still, 
a-waitin'  to  have  our  hair  lifted,  it  seemed  like  ;  but  after  a 
bit  we  found  out  that  the  Apaches  was  only  havin'  a  little 
fun  of  their  own. 

"  They  jabbered  a  few  minutes  in  their  own  lingo,  then 
treated  us  to  all  the  English  they  knowed,  which  was  the 


FOR  T  Y.NINERS.  S 1 

CUSS  words  they'd  picked  up  from  the  freighters,  an' 
wheeled  round  an'  galloped  off  as  they'd  come." 

By  the  time  that  Long  John's  narrative  was  finished  the 
party  stood  on  the  summit,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  ad- 
vance of  the  train.  The  trapper's  keen  glance  swept  the 
horizon,  and  rested  finally  on  a  peak  to  their  right.  A  less 
practical  eye  would  have  perceived  nothing  there,  but  Car- 
ter had  spent  twenty-five  years  in  the  mountains  and  on  the 
plains,  and  his  sight  and  hearing  were  those  of  an  Indian. 
He  descried  a  thin  blue  column  of  smoke  rising  skyward, 
and  announced  to  the  others  : 

"  A  signal-fire  !  The  Shastas  air  a-givin'  notice  to  the 
bands  to  the  north  an'  west  that  we're  a-comin'." 

"  That  means  war,"  Long  John  remarked,  though  more 
in  the  tone  of  one  putting  a  question  than  asserting  a  fact. 

The  trapf>er  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  not  for  sure,  by  no  means.  You  see,  Injuns 
don't  go  much  on  station-ary,  an'  post-offices  is  skurse  be- 
twixt here  an'  the  line  ;  consequently  they  does  their  letter- 
writin'  by  lightin'  a  little  brush  on  the  peaks,  an'  consid- 
erin'  that  any  one  on  'em  kin  see  that  thar  smoke  fifty 
miles  as  the  crow  flies,  it  ain't  a  bad  way." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  the  Shastas  are  hostile  ?"  in- 
quired one  of  the  young  men. 

"  No  ;  an'  I'll  tell  you  why.  Ef  you  look  sharp,  you'll 
see  the  tops  of  their  wickiups  a-showin'  in  the  chapparal 
down  there  on  the  foot-hills.  Now  when  Injuns  is  hostile 
there  ain't  nary  lodge  in  sight,  an'  you  won't  come  across 
no  warriors  neither,  except  it's  a  little  party  of  three  or 
four  that  meets  you  an'  makes  a  show  of  bein'  friendly,  to 
find  out  how  many  men  there  is  in  the  train  ;  but  when  you 
see  their  tepees  right  along  the  trail,  you  don't  need  to  bor- 
rer  no  trouble,  for  there  won't  be  no  fightin'," 

Long  John  confirmed  this  statement,  but  added,  as  a 


83  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

conclusion  deduced  from  his  own  experience,  that  the  sav- 
ages were  "  onsartin  critters,"  who  might  be  friendly  to-day 
and  on  the  war-path  to-morrow. 

By  this  time  the  men  who  were  acting  as  the  advance 
guard  of  the  train  had  reached  the  summit.  These  men 
were  husbands  and  fathers,  who  had  lives  far  dearer  than 
their  own  to  protect,  and  one  after  another  approached  the 
trapper  with  anxious  inquiries  as  to  the  look-out  ahead. 
His  cheerful  assurance  that  there  was  no  danger,  and  that 
good  treatment  would  keep  the  Indians  friendly,  was  re- 
ceived with  expressions  of  relief  and  thankfulness,  and  the 
whole  party,  freed  from  the  apprehensions  that  had  kept 
them  on  the  look-out  for  signs  of  trouble,  directed  their 
attention  to  the  view  before  them. 

The  valley,  which  lay  almost  at  their  feet,  stretched 
away  to  the  north  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  On  the 
south  it  was  bounded  by  a  spur  of  the  range  on  which  they 
stood,  and  twenty  miles  to  the  west  a  succession  of  grass- 
covered  benches  led  up  to  another  chain  of  mountains, 
whose  sides  were  hidden  by  a  heavy  growth  of  fir  and 
cedar.  The  sun  was  already  dipping  behind  these  western 
peaks  as  the  rear  guard  of  the  train  came  up,  and  it  was 
agreed  on  all  hands  to  defer  further  observations  until 
morning,  as,  according  to  Carter's  reckoning,  they  had 
barely  time  before  dark  to  reach  a  spot  of  which  he  knew, 
that  would  afford  a  favorable  camping-ground. 

The  whole  company  began  the  descent  in  good  spirits, 
and  the  animals,  as  though  they  realized  that  plenty  of 
grass  and  water  would  be  their  reward,  behaved  admira- 
bly, so  that  by  the  time  the  first  stars  began  to  twinkle 
faintly  in  the  sky,  the  train  entered  the  park  or  mountain 
valley  in  which  they  were  to  camp  for  the  night.  On  three 
sides  of  this  park  the  rocky  peaks  of  the  range  rose  like  a 
wall,  and  through  the  pass  by  which  they  entered,  a  clear 


FORTY-NINERS.  8j 

stream,  fed  by  unfailing  mountain  springs,  leaped  and 
rushed  downward  on  its  way  to  the  valley  below. 

These  emigrants  were  not  outlaws  fleeing  from  just 
punishment,  or  fanatics  seeking  some  spot  in  the  wilder- 
ness upon  which  to  erect  the  altars  of  a  faith  at  war  with 
the  spirit  of  the  age  and  the  genius  of  civilization.  They 
were  the  sturdy  yeomanry  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  them- 
selves the  children  of  pioneers,  bred  on  the  frontier,  and 
trained  to  combat  the  difficulties  and  face  the  dangers  of 
border  life.  The  wonderful  reports  that  had  reached  them 
of  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  valleys  of  Oregon,  together 
with  the  inducements  offered  by  the  Government  to  settlers, 
were  to  them  a  sufficient  reason  for  undertaking  the  peril- 
ous overland  journey  of  more  than  two  thousand  miles, 
with  their  wives  and  little  ones. 

Brave,  hardy,  and  adventurous,  the  very  children  par- 
took of  the  spirit  of  the  enterprise,  and  talked  wisely  of  the 
land  that  father  was  going  to  take  up,  and  of  the  way  they 
would  work  to  help  him  put  in  the  crops  ;  and  if  the  young 
mother  with  her  baby  at  her  breast  quaked  inwardly  at  the 
thought  of  the  savage  bands,  the  original  lords  of  the  soil, 
who  still  roamed  over  the  fertile  valleys  in  which  their 
cabins  were  to  be  built,  she  gave  no  sign  of  her  fears. 

Thus  far  all  had  gone  well  with  the  train.  Sickness 
had  not  thinned  their  ranks,  and  they  had  escaped  the  bul- 
lets and  arrows  of  the  red  man.  Now  the  goal  of  their 
hopes  lay  before  them  :  the  beautiful  valley  stretching  away 
to  the  north,  the  richness  of  its  soil  proved  by  the  tall 
grass  which  waved  over  it,  the  foothills  clothed  with  luxuri- 
ant pasture,  the  cafions  and  mountain-sides  covered  with 
timber  and  abounding  in  game,  and  the  streams  stocked 
with  fish.  The  land  was  theirs.  They  had  nothing  to  do 
but  enter  in  and  possess  it,  and  they  well  deserved  this 
goodly  heritage.     As  we  have  noticed  previously,  all  of 


84  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

them  except  Long  John,  the  trapper,  and  the  brothers  La 
Tour,  were  men  of  families,  and  they  brought  with  them 
the  wish  and  the  determination  to  rear  their  children  as 
worthy  citizens  of  a  great  and  free  country.  To-night,  as 
they  sat  round  their  camp-fires,  they  talked  not  only  of  the 
farms  they  were  to  acquire  and  the  homes  they  would  build, 
but  of  the  churches  and  school-houses  they  hoped  to  see  in 
the  valley  before  ten  years  rolled  round  ;  and  those  who 
know  the  history  of  the  State  they  helped  to  found,  know 
too  how  nobly  the  men  of  Oregon  have  redeemed  the 
pledges  of  those  early  days. 

The  La  Tours  had  joined  the  company,  not  so  much  for 
the  land  they  might  acquire  as  for  the  sake  of  escaping 
from  the  bloodhounds  that  the  Mormon  priesthood  set 
on  the  track  of  their  recalcitrant  followers  ;  and  the  emi- 
grants, with  ready  sympathy  for  refugees  from  tyranny  of 
any  sort,  had  received  them  with  open  arms.  Their  bear- 
ing since  they  joined  the  train  had  been  such  as  to  make 
them  general  favorites,  and  honest  Dick  Bradley,  the 
happy  owner  of  a  pretty  little  wife  and  a  sturdy  year-old 
youngster,  expressed  the  sentiments  of  the  whole  company 
when  he  said, 

"  Better  boys  than  them  thar  never  saddled  a  horse  nor 
drawed  a  bead,  an'  ef  the  redskins  sh'd  pop  me  over,  I'd 
trust  'em  to  bring  Jinny  an'  the  baby  through  safe." 

Yet  the  brothers,  though  outwardly  cheerful,  and  always 
ready  with  an  encouraging  word  for  the  despondent,  and 
a  smile  so  sunny  that  the  youngest  toddler  in  camp  would 
run  to  meet  them,  carried  a  heavy  load  of  concealed  anxiety 
under  the  brave  exterior  they  maintained.  They  were 
"  mother-boys,"  both  of  them,  to  the  very  core  of  their 
affectionate  hearts,  and  "  La  belle  mere"  whom  they  wor- 
shiped with  what  has  been  truly  and  beautifully  called  the 
fairest  type  of  first  love,  was  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  her 


FORTY-NINERS.  8$ 

enemies.  They  had  meant  to  carry  her  with  them,  but  all 
their  entreaties  had  been  powerless  to  move  her  to  take  a 
single  step  without  Louise.  They  thought  of  her  still  as 
on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri,  not  dreaming  that  she  could 
be  induced  to  accompany  the  Mormons  to  their  new  home  ; 
and  their  hope,  a  faint  one  it  is  true,  but  still  something  to 
cling  to,  was  to  make  a  home  here  to  which  they  might  yet 
bring  all  of  their  scattered  family. 

The  number  of  acres  which  a  single  man  could  take  up 
was  only  half  the  liberal  grant  made  by  the  Government  to 
the  head  of  a  family  ;  but  the  two  brothers  had  been  as  one 
ever  since  the  days  when  they  lay  in  the  same  cradle  in  the 
old  home  in  Quebec,  and  the  land  of  both  would  make  a 
noble  farm — a  little  kingdom  for  the  mother  when  they 
should  bring  her  here.  So,  comforting  themselves  with  a 
dream  that  was  never  to  be  fulfilled,  happy  in  their  love 
for  each  other,  and  pleased  with  the  life  of  freedom  and 
adventure  that  opened  out  before  them  in  the  new  North- 
West,  they  joined  heartily  to-night  in  the  rejoicing  that  filled 
the  camp. 

"  Tell  ye  what,"  observed  the  trapper,  as  he  poised  a 
slice  of  venison  on  the  end  of  the  sharp  stick  that  answered 
for  a  spit,  "  this  here  valley  is  jest  as  nigh  bein'  the  Gar- 
ding  of  Eden  that  the  Good  Book  tells  about,  as  any  land 
that  lays  out  door.  I  was  raised  in  Vermount,  an'  I  hate  to 
speak  disrespectful  of  the  country  on  account  of  the  old 
folks,  that  lived  an'  died  thar,  so  I  alwuz  make  a  pint  of 
sayin'  that  Vermount  is  a  mighty  nice  State  to  emigrate 
from  ;  but  when  I  look  at  this  here  country,  an'  then  think 
of  the  rocks  an'  stumps  an'  stone-heaps  that  had  to  be 
plowed  around  for  every  bushel  of  corn  that  was  raised 
back  thar,  seems  as  ef  the  old  folks,  ef  they  know  it,  won't 
blame  me  for  advisin'  everybody  raised  thar  to  emigrate 
young.  You  see,  the  old  man  was  a  deacon,  an'  never  said 


<6  THE  FATE   OP  MADAME  LA    TOVR. 

nothin'  worse  in  his  life  than  '  I  declare,'  besides  bein'  one 
of  the  patientest  souls  that  ever  drawed  breath  ;  but  I've 
seen  him  look  as  ef  it  would  a'  bin  a  powerful  relief  to  his 
mind  to  make  some  onscripteral  remarks  when  he  was  a 
plowin'  the  side-hill  above  the  barn. 

"  You've  heerd  the  story,  most  likely,  of  the  traveler  in 
Vermount  that  seen  a  man  a-scoopin'  somethin'  out  of  a 
crevice  between  the  rocks  with  a  long-handled  hoe,  an' 
asked  him  what  on  arth  he  was  a  doin'. 

"  '  Doin'  ?  '  says  the  man,  '  why,  I'matryin'  together  up 
dirt  enough  to  kiver  them  pertaters.  You  don't  s'pose 
they'd  grow  ef  I  left  'em  bare  to  the  sun  ?  ' 

"  Now  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  say  I  know  that  to  be  so,  because 
its  somethin'  I  didn't  see  myself,  but  there's  enough  that  I 
hev  seen  to  make  me  thank  the  Lord  that  the  way  opened 
for  me  to  move  on  toward  sundown  as  soon  as  I  got  to  be 
a  man.  I'd  rather  have  a  hand-to-hand  tussle  with  the 
varmints  in  this  country  than  with  the  rocks  an'  stumps 
back  thar ;  an'  seems  as  ef  I  relish  the  game  I  shoot  out 
here  more'n  I  used  ter  the  sheep  an'  cattle  we  killed  on  the 
farm.  I  alwus  pitied  the  poor  things,  they  had  sech  a  hard 
time  a-pickin'  their  livin'  where  there  was  two  stones  to 
one  blade  of  grass,  an'  it  seemed  cruel  to  kill  'em  after 
they'd  made  out  to  grow  up  on  such  pastur." 


CHAPTER   VII, 
,  THE    BROTHERS. 

The  emigrants,  safely  sheltered  by  the  walls  which  na- 
ture had  built  around  their  camp,  slept  the  sound  sleep 
they  had  earned  so  well,  undisturbed  by  dreams  of  their 
savage  neighbors  in  the  cafions  below,  and  rose  when  the 
earliest  signs  of  dawn  appeared  in  the  sky,  to  prepare  for 
the  last  stage  of  their  journey. 

Daybreak  in  these  primeval  solitudes  seemed  like  the 
birth  of  light  in  a  new  world.  All  the  shy  wild  creatures 
whose  haunts  are  in  the  forest  and  the  mountains  came  out 
from  their  coverts.  The  deer  bent  their  beautiful  necks  to 
drink  of  the  little  lake  that  lay  in  a  basin  half  way  up  the 
gorge.  The  rabbits  nibbled  the  short,  sweet  herbage,  or 
sat  soberly  on  the  bare  hillocks,  gazing  about  as  if  admiring 
the  landscape.  Every  leafy  shelter  was  alive  with  birds, 
whose  chirpings  and  twitterings,  beginning  before  the  stars 
faded,  swelled  gradually  into  a  triumphant  chorus  of  song 
as  the  sun  cast  his  earliest  rays  upon  the  fleecy  patches  of 
cloud  that  hung  over  the  mountains. 

No  human  sound  came  up  from  the  valley  below.  No 
sign  that  man  had  invaded  this  corner  of  nature's  domain 
was  visible  from  the  spot  where  the  new-comers  had  rested 
for  the  night  ;  but  as  they  left  the  park  and  began  to  descend 
the  pass  they  perceived  tiny  spirals  of  smoke,  curling  up- 
ward from  unseen  fires,  and  in  another  half-hour  the  deer- 
skin lodges  of  the  nomads  of  this  western  wilderness  were 
in  plain  sight. 

The  Shastas,  the  emigrants*  nearest  neighbors  for  the 


88  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

present,  seemed  to  have  confidence  in  the  peaceable  inten- 
tions of  their  visitors,  for  the  village  beside  the  trail  was 
tenanted  only  by  the  women  and  children  of  the  band,  who 
showed  a  mild  curiosity  with  regard  to  the  appearance  and 
belongings  of  the  pale-faces,  but  manifested  no  signs  of 
fear  or  displeasure.  Through  the  trapper  they  communi- 
cated the  information  that  their  braves  had  gone  to  the 
hunting-grounds,  which  were  five  suns  distant,  and  that  if 
deer  and  elk  were  plenty  they  would  be  home  before  two 
moons.  A  little  trading  was  also  done,  a  few  well-dressed 
skins  being  exchanged  for  the  trinkets  dear  to  the  savage 
heart,  and  a  bright  brass  kettle,  which  was  regarded  by 
numbers  with  covetous  eyes,  was  left  in  the  chief's  lodge 
as  a  gift.  Then  the  train  moved  on,  followed  for  a  mile  or 
more  by  a  procession  of  scantily-clad,  dusky  juveniles,  who 
were  loath  to  lose  sight  of  the  wonderful  pageant. 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  they  reached  the  end  of 
their  journey,  and  camped  in  what  seemed  the  richest  por- 
tion of  the  valley.  There  were  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
families  in  the  company,  and  it  was  necessary  that  they 
should  keep  together  as  closely  as  possible  for  mutual  help 
and  protection.  Their  claims  were  staked  out  in  the  best 
way  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object,  and  in  the  center 
of  the  land  thus  taken  up,  a  fort,  surrounded  by  a  stockade, 
was  erected  while  the  cabins  of  the  settlers  were  going  up. 

Long  John  was  a  millwright,  and  the  wagons  in  the 
train  belonging  to  him  were  loaded  with  the  necessary 
machinery  for  a  saw-mill,  one  of  the  first  wants  of  the  new 
settlement.  The  useful  trades  were  well  represented 
among  the  colonists,  and  not  only  every  man  and  woman, 
but  every  child  in  the  company  above  the  age  of  seven, 
knew  enough  of  farm  work  to  lend  a  hand  in  some  depart- 
ment of  what  was  to  be  the  principal  industry  of  the  settle- 
ment. 


THE  BROTHERS.  89 

Thirty  years  ago,  and  on  the  frontiers,  life  was  simple, 
and  artificial  wants  were  few.  It  is  really  surprising  how 
much  comfort  and  happiness  our  colonists  managed  to  ex- 
tract from  a  mode  of  living  whose  details  would  appall  the 
stoutest-hearted  of  those  philosophers  who  are  wont  to 
advise  their  friends  to  "go  west." 

If  in  the  press  of  work  attendant  on  breaking  ground  for 
putting  in  the  crops,  no  time  could  be  found  to  have  lum- 
ber sawed  for  flooring,  the  good  housewife  got  along  very 
well  with  a  floor  of  earth,  hard  packed  and  well  swept.  If 
glass  was  wanting,  a  doeskin,  dressed  thin  and  oiled,  took 
its  place  in  the  window.  If  the  supply  of  dishes  fell  short, 
the  youngsters  of  the  family  ate  with  excellent  appetites 
from  blocks  of  wood  nicely  hollowed  and  scraped  smooth. 
When  the  small  store  of  groceries  they  had  brought  with 
them  began  to  fail,  and  the  nearest  trading-post  was  more 
than  two  hundred  miles  away,  the  honey  which  the  bees, 
with  commendable  forethought,  had  laid  up  in  hollow 
trees  for  just  such  an  emergency,  supplied  the  place  of 
sugar,  and  if  the  women  missed  their  cup  of  tea  they  did 
not  say  so. 

Spinning-wheels  and  hand-looms,  which  had  already 
grown  obsolete  in  the  East,  were  among  the  most  valued 
possessions  of  the  colonists  ;  and  as  the  years  passed  and 
their  flocks  of  sheep  increased  on  the  range,  and  acres  of 
flax  blossomed  on  their  farms,  fathers,  mothers,  and  children 
were  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  suits,  by  no  means  to  be 
despised,  that  had  been  "  raised  on  the  land." 

Game  and  fish  abounded  almost  at  their  doors  ;  wheat 
that  was  sown  the  first  autumn  yielded  a  bountiful  harvest 
that  was  ready  for  the  reaper  by  the  following  June  ;  and 
the  crops  of  all  sorts  that  were  gathered  from  the  ground 
planted  in  the  spring  filled  their  bins  and  granaries  to  over 
flowing. 


90  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

And  while  outward  prosperity  attended  the  colonists,  the 
roofs  of  their  lowly  cabins  sheltered  scenes  of  domestic 
peace.  No  baleful  shadow,  the  outcome  of  a  faith  that 
crushes  the  purest  instincts  of  humanity,  sat  at  their  hearth- 
stones. No  tyrannical  priesthood  made  the  people  its 
slaves.  No  "  blood-atoner"  dogged  the  steps  of  those  who 
saw  fit  to  go  elsewhere. 

The  next  year  and  the  year  following  witnessed  a  still 
larger  immigration,  the  beginning  of  that  steady  influx  of 
population  which,  in  the  course  of  a  decade,  covered  the 
whole  country  with  farms,  and  built  up  scores  of  busy 
towns  where  only  a  little  while  before  the  red  man  had  been 
the  sole  tenant  of  the  soil. 

Early  in  the  fall  of  1852  a  small  train  from  the  States  ar- 
rived, which  had  come  by  a  different  route  from  that  taken 
by  the  first  settlers.  They  had  encountered  many  difficul- 
ties on  the  way,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  Echo  Cafion 
their  animals  were  so  jaded  and  footsore  that  they  feared 
they  would  not  be  able  to  get  through.  They  turned  aside, 
therefore,  into  the  Mormon  settlements,  to  exchange  their 
nearly  worn-out  teams  for  fresh  ones,  and  to  get  such  sup- 
plies as  the  settlers  might  be  able  to  furnish. 

They  represented  the  Mormons  as  numerous  and  appar- 
ently thriving,  but  by  no  means  disposed  to  entertain  stran- 
gers. However,  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  strategy,  which 
Ward,  the  captain  of  the  company,  said  he  thought  entirely 
justifiable  under  the  circumstances,  they  obtained  what 
they  needed  by  paying  two  prices  for  everything,  and  went 
on  their  way  unhindered. 

"I  don't  think  nature  intended  me  tor  a  hypocrite," 
Ward  said,  "  for  the  bit  of  acting  I  went  through  with  in 
Salt  Lake  was  the  hardest  work  I  have  done  in  twenty 
years.  You  see,  as  soon  as  we  struck  the  settlements,  we 
could  tell  by  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  that  we  were  not 


THE  BROTHERS.  9i 

Welcome.  The  men  gave  us  black  looks,  and  the  women 
disappeared  in-doors  as  soon  as  the  train  came  in  sight. 
No  one  would  talk  with  us,  until  after  a  time  I  got  a  small 
boy  to  direct  me  to  the  Bishop's  house. 

I  knocked  at  the  door  boldly,  and  the  man  who  opened  it 
proved  to  be  the  Bishop  himself.  I  stated  our  case  to  him, 
enlarged  on  the  reputation  of  the  saints  for  hospitality  and 
generosity,  said  we  knew  if  we  could  reach  their  settle- 
ments we  should  be  cared  for,  and  finally  begged  of  him  a 
letter  to  President  Young. 

"  The  old  fellow  was  completely  won  over.  He  ordered 
his  people  to  let  us  have  the  supplies  we  wanted  (for  which, 
by  the  way,  we  paid  a  big  price),  and  invited  me  to  break- 
fast in  his  own  house.  After  breakfast  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  with  us  to  Salt  Lake,  and  through  him  I  ob- 
tained the  privilege  of  paying  my  respects  to  the  Prophet. 

"  To  him  I  praised  everything  that  I  saw  in  Utah,  and,  as 
I  flatter  myself,  made  so  good  an  impression  that  I  had  no 
further  difficulties.  I  think  if  the  folks  at  home  could  know 
what  diplomatic  abilities  I  developed  out  there  I  should  get 
a  foreign  mission  at  any  rate." 

"  But  with  all  yer  diplomatic  abilities,  ye  didn't  git 
ahead  of  that  old  coon  on  a  bargain,"  drawled  Jim  Badger, 
one  of  the  party.  "  Our  bosses  an'  cattle  wor  blooded 
stock,  wutha  mint  of  money,  ef  they«/«2r  tender-footed,  an' 
we  hed  to  trade  'em  fur  mustangs  an'  the  orneriest  horned 
critters  that  ever  lifted  a  hoof ;  an'  fur  the  garding  truck 
an'  other  provender  they  sold  us,  we  paid  'em  in  hard  cash 
more'n  would  hev  bought  a  good-sized  farm  out  here." 

"  That's  all  so,"  answered  Ward,  "  but  I  saw  we  were 
in  a  place  where  it  was  Hobson's  choice.  One  of  these 
days  I'll  get  even  with  them  on  the  animals." 

The  La  Tours,  as  soon  as  they  heard  that  the  strangers 
had  stopped  in  Utah,  paid  a  visit  to  their  camp,  in  the  hope 


9«  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

of  learning  something  of  their  relatives,  of  whom  they  had 
never  been  able  to  hear  anything  since  the  day  that  they 
parted  with  them  at  winter  quarters.  Though  they  did 
not  think  that  their  mother  and  the  younger  children  would 
go  with  the  Mormons  except  upon  compulsion,  they  were 
by  no  means  so  sure  about  Philip,  and  they  believed  also 
that  Louise  was  in  the  Prophet's  power,  and  that  she  was 
in  Utah,  if  alive. 

Captain  Ward  could  give  them  no  information,  but  while 
they  were  talking  with  him  another  of  the  company  came 
up — an  Illinoisan  named  Spencer,  who  had  relatives  among 
the  Mormons. 

"  Here  is  a  man,"  said  Ward,  "  who  had  a  better  chance 
than  I  to  look  around,  and  he  may  be  able  to  tell  you  what 
you  wish  to  know." 

As  the  brothers  stepped  forward  to  meet  Spencer,  he  ex- 
claimed, 

"  I  have  surely  seen  one  of  you  before  ;  but  no — stop. 
It  was  a  younger  man  ;  only  a  boy,  in  fact." 

"Where  did  you  see  him?"  In  their  eagerness  the 
brothers  both  spoke  at  once. 

"  In  Salt  Lake.  He  was  a  youngster  of  about  eighteen, 
I  should  say,  but  as  tall  as  either  of  you,  and  so  like  you 
that  the  resemblance  quite  startled  me  at  first." 

"  Did  you  talk  with  him  ?" 

"  No,  I  did  not  even  hear  his  name  mentioned.  You 
see,  the  Mormons  don't  encourage  sociability  between 
their  people  and  outsiders.  I  know  them  of  old  ;  and  when 
they  are  fixed  so  that  they  can  have  things  their  own  way, 
it  won't  do  to  ask  too  many  questions  about  their  affairs. 
I  would  have  liked  to  question  my  own  relatives,  especially 
the  women,  who  looked  downcast  enough  to  make  me  sure 
their  lot  was  a  hard  one  ;  but  I  was  certain  that  I  should 
make  trouble  for  myself  and  for  them  too  by  doing  so." 


THE  BROTHERS.  93 

"The  fact  is,"  interposed  Ward,  "we  found  ourselves 
in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines,  and  were  forced  to  remem- 
ber that  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor.  A  little  im- 
prudence would  have  cost  us  a  great  deal  more  than  the 
garden  truck  that  Badger  tells  about.  We  none  of  us 
dared  to  appear  as  though  we  were  inquiring  into  their 
concerns,  but  if  you  have  relatives  there  and  wish  to  find 
out  about  them,  I  think  I  know  of  parties  to  whom  in- 
quiries could  be  addressed. 

"  You  know  we  came  in  by  the  southern  route,  and  in 
Shasta  valley  we  met  some  old  friends  of  mine  on  their  way 
to  the  diggings  in  Yreka  Flat.  There  were  half  a  dozen 
apostate  Mormons  with  them — fellows  who  had  got  tired  of 
Prophets  and  polygamy  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  left 
Salt  Lake  without  bidding  anybody  good-by.  From  the 
stories  they  told  I  should  say  they  had  a  lively  time  getting 
away.  They  started  out  to  hunt  stray  stock,  and  it  appears 
they  managed  to  have  the  animals  stray  a  good  ways,  and 
timed  their  search  so  as  to  fall  in  with  a  train  bound  for 
California.  They  were  young  fellows,  all  of  them,  and 
from  what  I  saw  of  Utah  I  can't  blame  them  for  leaving." 

That  night,  when  the  brothers  were  alone,  they  talked 
long  and  earnestly  about  the  advisability  of  disposing  of 
their  land  and  going  over  into  California,  where  they  might 
possibly  hear  something  of  their  family.  There  were  many 
recruits  from  Oregon  in  the  army  of  California  miners,  and 
the  La  Tours  had  more  than  once  been  on  the  point  of 
going  ;  but  now,  as  on  many  other  nights  when  they  had 
talked  the  matter  over,  they  went  to  bed  without  reaching^ 
any  conclusion. 

The  brothers  still  slept  side  by  side,  as  they  had  done  all 
their  lives.  Their  claims  adjoined  each  other,  and  a  cabin 
built  upon  the  line  answered  the  legal  requirements  of  a 
dwelling  upon  each  farm. 


94  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

The  unexplained  physical  and  mental  sympathy  that 
often  exists  between  twins  was  so  strong  in  their  case  that 
in  many  respects  they  could  hardly  be  said  to  have  a 
separate  existence.  They  dropped  asleep  together,  waked 
at  the  same  moment,  and  even  their  dreams  were  alike. 
To-night,  going  to  bed  at  a  late  hour,  they  slept  until  long 
past  midnight,  then  both  waked  with  a  shudder  of  alarm. 

"Dear  brother,"  said  Francis,  "I  have  had  such  a 
dreadful  dream." 

"And  I,"  answered  Charles.  "I  dreamed  that  I  saw 
our  mother  in  a  little  room,  cold  and  bare  like  a  prison- 
cell.  She  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  narrow  bed,  and  when  she 
tried  to  rise  I  saw  that  there  was  a  chain  about  her  waist 
that  fastened  her  to  the  spot.  Her  hair  was  white  as  snow, 
and  her  face  pale  as  the  dead." 

"  I  saw  all  that  too,"  interrupted  Francis,  "  and  yet  in 
spite  of  everything  there  was  a  peaceful,  almost  a  happy 
look  in  her  eyes,  as  they  met  mine.     What  can  it  mean  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  any  more  than  you,  and  we  shall  not 
find  out  by  staying  here.  Let  us  not  wait  any  longer,  but 
start  for  California  at  once.  If  we  cannot  sell  our  land,  we 
can  rent  it." 

"  I  was  thinking  just  the  same.  If  we  meet  those  young 
men  from  Salt  Lake  we  can  at  least  find  out  whether  our 
mother  and  the  little  girls  are  in  Utah.  Philip  is  there, 
without  doubt.  It  could  have  been  no  one  else  that  this 
man  Spencer  saw." 

"  And  the  little  girls  are  almost  women  now.  Think 
what  a  place  that  must  be  for  them,  with  no  one  able  to 
protect  them  !" 

The  brothers  slept  no  more  that  night,  and  the  next 
morning  set  about  making  the  necessary  arrangements  for 
leaving.  It  was  not  a  difficult  matter  to  find  a  purchaser 
for  their  land  among  the  late  arrivals,  and  with  the  price 


THE  BROTHERS.  95 

of  it  safely  stowed  away  in  the  leather  belts  which  enabled 
the  men  of  the  Coast  in  those  days  to  become  their  own 
bankers,  they  started  on  their  journey,  carrying  with  them 
the  good  wishes  of  the  whole  settlement. 

In  1852  the  road  over  the  Siskiyous  was  not  what 
it  is  to-day,  but  it  was  a  very  good  road  of  its  kind 
nevertheless.  Up  and  up  the  steep  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain, now  winding  to  the  right,  now  making  a  sharp 
turn  to  the  left,  here  creeping  along  the  edge  of  a  preci- 
pice, and  yonJer  sinking  almost  out  of  sight  in  a  nar- 
row defile,  the  trail  led  at  length  to  the  open  plateau 
overhung  by  the  frowning  summit  of  Pilot  Knob.  Here 
our  travelers  caught  their  first  glimpse  of  the  Land  of  Gold 
— that  wonderful  country  whose  hidden  treasures  are  cov- 
ered, not  by  desert  sands  and  bare,  bristling  rocks,  but  by 
an  emerald  carpet,  embroidered  with  all  the  hues  of  earth 
and  sky. 

The  brothers  lingered  on  the  plateau  until  the  declining 
sun  warned  them  that  it  was  time  to  be  on  their  way,  if 
they  expected  to  reach  the  valley  by  nightfall  ;  but  the  pic- 
ture spread  out  before  them  was  one  which  might  well  ex- 
cuse delay.  Who  that  has  even  looked  upon  it  can  forget 
it !  What  traveler  who  has  explored  the  valleys  and 
climbed  the  mountains  of  the  Pacific  Slope  can  lose  the 
memory  of  the  charmed  landscapes  that  make  all  other 
scenery  appear  tame  and  cold  ! 

A  little  way  from  the  foot  of  the  mountain  they  began  to 
perceive  signs  of  human  occupancy.  Herds  of  cattle  were 
grazing  on  the  slopes,  trails  branched  off  from  the  main 
road  in  different  directions,  and  finally  the  rock  chimneys 
and  clap-boarded  roof  of  a  long  low  building  came  in 
view.  Our  travelers'  horses  quickened  their  speed  of  their 
own  accord,  and  even  the  pack-mules  began  to  move  more 
nimbly  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  watering-trough,  hewn 


p6  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

out  of  an  immense  log,  and  filled  by  a  pipe  leading  from 
one  of  those  mountain  springs  whose  clear  waters  show 
the  form  of  the  tiniest  pebble  or  insect  at  the  bottom. 

The  building  needed  no  lettered  sign  to  announce 
"  Entertainment  for  Man  and  Beast."  More  than  a  dozen 
wayfarers  were  resting  in  various  picturesque  attitudes  on 
the  porch,  while  in  front  of  the  stables  a  small  band  of 
horses  and  mules  were  being  divested  of  packs  and  saddles. 

A  number  of  the  travelers  were  Oregonians,  who,  after  a 
prosperous  summer  in  the  mines,  were  returning  to  their 
families,  and  among  these  the  La  Tours  found  one  or  two 
acquaintances  who  had  spent  the  last  six  months  on  Yreka 
Flat.  They  confirmed  Captain  Ward's  account  of  the 
Mormon  boys  who  had  lately  come  to  the  mines,  and  were 
able  besides  to  give  the  names  of  some  of  them — names 
which  the  brothers  remembered  in  connection  with  the 
flight  from  Nauvoo,  and  the  year  they  had  spent  at  winter 
quarters. 

The  company  that  filled  the  inn  was  a  genial  one,  the 
supper  was  good,  and  the  stories  of  the  "  diggin's"  which 
followed  it  were  well  flavored  with  the  marvelous  ;  yet  the 
brothers,  who  were  eager  to  be  on  the  way,  found  the  even- 
ing a  long  one,  and  by  sunrise  next  morning  they  were 
ready  for  their  journey, 

A  ride  of  ten  hours  through  a  rolling  country  covered 
with  grass,  with  here  and  there  a  patch  of  timber,  brought 
them  in  sight  of  their  destination. 

Yreka  Flat,  in  those  days,  came  under  the  head  of  "  new 
diggings."  About  half  a  dozen  cabins  of  the  rudest  con- 
struction were  scattered  around,  but  the  majority  of  the 
miners  had  been  too  busy  during  the  summer  to  think  of 
building  cabins  ;  and  besides,  what  need  was  there  of  a 
house  in  those  months  when  rain  never  fell,  and  the  air 
was  as  soft  as  a  baby's  check  ? 


THE  BROTHERS.  97 

The  day's  work  was  over,  and  all  along  the  gulches  camp- 
fires  began  to  gleam,  casting  a  bright  glow  on  the  faces  of 
the  masculine  cooks,  who  were  making  coffee,  frying 
bacon,  or  engaged  in  the  more  arduous  task  of  mixing 
bread  in  their  prospect-pans. 

They  were  a  merry  crew,  these  miners.  They  sang  and 
whistled  as  the  cooking  progressed,  and  when  supper  was 
ready  seated  themselves  comfortably  on  the  ground,  with  no 
complaints  about  the  absence  of  tablecloths  and  napkins, 
and  ate  and  drank  with  an  appetite  that  it  was  worth 
crossing  the  Sierras  to  find.  There  was  no  trouble  about 
clearing  the  table  after  the  meal,  and  dish-washing  was  a 
brief  and  infrequent  ceremony,  observed  chiefly  out  of 
respect  to  the  traditions  of  the  past. 

Our  travelers  were  received  with  that  open-handed  hos- 
pitality which  was  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the 
"  Forty-Niners,"  and  before  the  evening  wore  away  they 
were  rechristened  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Coast. 
Every  man  in  the  camp  bore  an  appellation  which  had  a  dis- 
tinctive meaning,  the  arbitrary  title  by  which  he  was  known 
in  "the  States"  having  been  dropped,  along  with  other 
relics  of  an  effete  civilization.  Henceforth  the  new-comers 
were  to  be  designated  as  the  "  Turtle-Doves,"  and  if  a  neces- 
sity arose  for  speaking  of  them  separately — a  thing  which 
rarely  happened — they  were  distinguished  as  Number  One 
and  Number  Two. 

Early  the  next  morning  Christopher  Columbus — so 
named  because,  according  to  his  own  version  of  the  history 
of  the  Coast,  he  was  the  original  discoverer  of  all  the  rich 
diggings  known  to  fame — proffered  his  services  to  the  late 
arrivals  in  the  capacity  of  instructor  and  general  adviser. 

"  This  here  camp  is  gittin'  considerable  played  out,"  he 
remarked.  "  Diggin's  was  struck  last  spring,  an'  sence 
then  there's  been  nigh  onto  a  thousand  of  the  boys  at  work 


98  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

on  the  Flat.  Mebbe  a  hundred  out  of  the  lot  has  made  a 
clean-up  of  from  three  to  ten  thousand  dollars,  an'  ef  you 
count  alongside  of  them  all  the  claims  that's  bein'  worked 
now,  you  can  see  with  half  an  eye  that  the  ground's  bin 
pooty  well  prospected.  The  pay  streaks  is  worked  out,  an' 
by  the  time  snow  flies  these  diggin's  '11  be  as  lonesome  as 
a  last  year's  bird's-nest ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do," 
lowering  his  voice  to  a  confidential  half-whisper;  "I've 
got  a  big  thing  on  the  crick,  jest  the  other  side  of  the 
mounting. 

"  I  reely  don't  like  to  tell  it  as  big  as  it  is,  because  you 
mought  think  I  was  a-lyin'.  I  hain't  done  much  work  on 
it :  jest  staked  out  the  claim,  an'  sunk  a  shaft  eight  foot,  to 
the  bed-rock.  Well,  now,  you  heerd  the  boys  talk  last 
night  about  half  a  dollar  to  the  pan,  as  though  that  was  big 
pay.  I  didn't  want  to  say  anything  to  discourage  'em,  but 
ef  I  thought  I  hadn't  got  nothin'  to  look  forrerd  to  but  a 
pay  streak  that  u'd  average  half  a  dollar  to  the  pan,  I'd 
throw  up  the  sponge  an'  quit  the  country. 

"  As  I  was  tellin'  you,  that  there  claim  of  mine  ain't  had 
much  work  done  on  it  ;  but  the  dirt  I  took  out  of  the  bot- 
tom of  the  shaft  went  fifteen  dollars  to  the  pan." 

"  Mining  is  new  business  to  us,"  Francis  ventured  to 
suggest,  "  and  we  want  to  look  about  a  little,  and  get 
what  information  we  can  before  deciding  upon  anything." 

'*  Well,  ginerally  speakin',  that's  the  best  plan  ;  but 
when  a  feller  that's  new  to  the  diggin's  has  a  chance  to  go 
in  with  some  one  that's  bin  on  the  Coast  since  airly  in  the 
spring  of  '49,  an*  took  out  more  dust  than  a  mule-train 
could  pack  down-hill  on  the  ice,  it's  different.  Now,  I 
don't  mind  sayin'  that  I've  kinder  took  to  you  boys,  an' 
I'll  make_>'<7«  an  offer  that  I  wouldn't  make  to  everybody. 
Ef  you've  a  notion  to  go  in  with  me  on  that  there  claim, 
you  kin  have  a  one  half  intrist  for  five  hundred  dollars,  or 


THE  BROTHERS.  99 

a  two  thirds  intrist  for  a  thousand.  You  see,  two  thirds 
gives  you  the  control,  an'  that's  a  big  thing  for  you." 

At  this  point  the  conference  was  interrupted  by  loud  calls 
for  "Christopher"  from  a  neighboring  group  of  miners  ; 
and  with  a  hasty  apology  to  his  new  friehds  and  a  promise 
to  see  them  again,  the  proprietor  of  the  rich  placer  claim 
on  the  "  crick"  moved  away  in  answer  to  the  summons. 

The  young  men  looked  after  him  with  a  mingled  expres- 
sion of  amusement  and  relief.  The  fortunate  owner  of  the 
wonderful  gold  deposit  was  a  trifle  seedy  in  his  personal 
appearance.  The  rim  of  his  hat  had  disappeared,  with  the 
exception  of  a  single  piece  which  hung  down  behind,  while 
a  bristling  crop  of  sandy  hair  showed  through  an  aperture 
in  the  crown.  His  flannel  shirt,  his  sole  upper  garment, 
had  evidently  been  fashioned  from  the  half  of  a  pair  of 
blankets  which  had  seen  long  service  before  relinquishing 
their  first  form  and  design.  His  breeches,  skilfully  patched 
with  remnants  of  flour-sacks,  stopped  half  way  below  the 
knees,  and  were  met  by  the  tops  of  boots  that  had  never 
been  a  pair. 

The  brothers  were  still  following  the  receding  figure  of 
the  great  discoverer  with  their  eyes,  when  a  friendly  hand 
was  laid  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  turning  they  con- 
fronted Lucky  Jim — a  blue-eyed,  jovial  ne'er-do-weel, 
who  had  followed  up  all  the  strikes  on  the  Coast  without 
making  a  dollar,  but  who  seemed  nevertheless  as  happy 
tand  care-free  as  though  he  had  found  the  world  an  oyster 
already  opened  for  him. 

"  The  boys  noticed  Columbus  going  up  your  way,"  he 
said,  "  and  they  sent  me  around,  not  to  notify  you  that  he's 
the  biggest  liar  on  the  Coast,  for  they  reckon  you  can  find 
that  out  for  yourselves,  but  to  tell  you  how  to  get  rid  of 
him. 

"  When  he  comes  back  with  an  offer  to  sell  you  two 


lOO         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME    LA    TOUR. 

thirds  of  his  claim — he'll  ask  a  thousand  dollars  for  it  at 
first,  and  finally  drop  to  a  hundred  or  less — just  tell  him 
you'll  take  an  interest  if  he  can  get  the  Professor  to  go  in 
with  you.  You  see,  he  swindled  the  Professor  out  of  five 
hundred  dollars  when  he  first  struck  the  diggings,  and 
came  mighty  near  getting  the  top  of  his  head  shot  off  when 
the  '  Golden  Treasure  '  turned  out  to  be  salted." 

'*  That  is  a  good  idea,"  said  Francis,  who  usually  spoke 
for  both.  "  We  were  wondering  how  we  should  answer 
him  ;  for  no  doubt  if  we  declined  buying  an  interest  in  his 
claim  on  the  '  crick,'  he  would  bring  forward  a  dozen 
others,  each  one  better  than  the  last."  Then  after  a  brief 
pause  he  added, 

"  May  we  trouble  you  to  assist  us  in  another  matter  ? 
We  came  here  hoping  to  find  three  young  men  from  Utah, 
who,  so  we  were  told,  were  in  this  camp." 

Jim  nodded.  "  I  know  the  boys  you  mean,"  he  said, 
"  but  they' re  with  a  party  that's  gone  over  the  mountain  for 
supplies.  They  will  be  back  in  about  a  month.  You  have 
just  missed  seeing  them,  for  they  left  only  four  days  ago." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    prophet's    PROFITS. 

The  spring  of  1853  opened  with  every  indication  of  a 
prosperous  year  for  the  Mormon  settlements  in  Utah.  The 
heavy  overland  emigration  to  California  during  the  two 
previous  years  had  been  of  great  benefit  to  the  Saints. 
Many  large  companies  were  compelled,  on  reaching  Salt 
Lake,  to  make  such  exchanges  and  purchases  as  Captain 
Ward's  train  had  made,  and  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
add  that  the  Mormons  always  had  the  best  of  the  bargain. 
Many  other  companies  had  unwisely  loaded  their  wagons 
with  supplies  of  all  kinds  that  their  jaded  teams  could  not 
possibly  drag  across  the  desert,  and  these  supplies  were 
unloaded  in  Utah  and  sold  for  a  trifle,  or,  in  many  cases, 
given  away. 

There  were  still  other  small  companies  that  entered  the 
borders  of  Utah  and  were  never  seen  again.  This  was  es- 
pecially true  of  returning  Californians,  who  attempted  to 
cross  the  Territory  with  the  treasure  they  had  taken  from 
the  mines  of  the  Coast. 

At  this  time  Brigham  Young  was  at  once  the  ecclesias- 
tical, civil,  and  military  head  of  the  colony.  He  was  Gov- 
ernor of  the  Territory,  by  Federal  appointment,  ex-officio 
commander  of  the  military,  and  he  assumed  also  to  be  the 
vicegerent  of  the  Almighty.  His  power  was  that  of  an 
absolute  and  irresponsible  despot,*  and  this  power  he  exer- 
cised for  more  than  twenty  years,  without  let  or  hindrance 
from  any  quarter. 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  F,  page  336. 


:o2         THE    FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

To  say  that  he  held  the  lives,  liberty,  and  property  of  the 
people  in  his  hands  is  to  make  an  assertion  that  falls  short 
of  the  truth.  He  had  it  in  his  power  to  condemn  those  who 
fell  under  his  displeasure  to  a  fate  more  terrible  than  death, 
and  to  cause  the  slow  years  of  a  wretched  life  to  drag  out  in 
the  midst  of  tortures  such  as  Loyola  never  dreamed  of. 

And  like  the  savage  tribes  of  the  American  wilderness, 
he  punished  those  who  offended  him,  not  merely  by  causing 
them  to  suffer  in  their  own  persons  everything  that  his 
cruel  spirit  could  devise,  but  by  putting  those  who  were 
dearer  to  them  than  their  own  lives  to  torture  and  shame. 

Because  Madame  La  Tour  had  incurred  his  bitter  hate, 
it  pleased  him  to  sacrifice  her  daughter,  who  had  never 
offended  him.  That  he  might  torture  her  mother  through 
her,  Louise  La  Tour,  beautiful,  gifted,  and  refined,  was 
made  the  slave  of  a  brute  whose  very  presence  was  an  in- 
sult to  a  pure  woman.  Then,  when  this  wretch  tired  of 
her,  and  wished  to  throw  her  aside,  he  was  prepared  to 
give  her  to  another  of  those  beasts  in  human  form  who 
were  among  his  familiars  ;  but  here,  it  seemed,  his  hand 
was  stayed.  He  who  sent  His  angel,  and  shut  the  lions' 
mouths  ;  He  who  walked  beside  His  chosen  ones  in  the  fur- 
nace seven  times  heated  had  heard  the  cry  that  went  up 
in  the  silence  of  the  night  from  a  soul  bereft  of  earthly 
hope :  Louise  was  no  longer  alone.  She  realized  the  en- 
compassing, all-pervading  presence  of  the  Helper  of  the 
helpless  ;  she  felt  that  an  invisible  Hand  was  turning  aside 
the  shafts  aimed  at  her.  Her  first  encouragements  were  that 
about  that  time  human  friends  were  raised  up  for  her  in  unex- 
pected quarters.  The  first  wife  of  Kimball,  known  among 
the  jjeople  as  Sister  Vilate,  whose  sufferings  had  not  yet 
culminated  in  the  madness  that  preceded  her  death,  was 
moved  with  a  strange  pity  for  the  hapless  girl,  whose  his- 
tory she  knew  only  too  well.     She  visited  her  in  Burch's 


THE  PROPHET'S  PROFITS.  I03 

cabin,  watched  over  her  like  a  mother  while  she  remained 
there,  and  finally  induced  her  husband  to  give  Louise  her 
freedom. 

In  Utah,  as  in  Asia,  a  man  who  is  displeased  with  one 
of  his  many  wives,  or  who  has  grown  tired  of  her,  gives 
her  a  bill  of  divorce  and  sends  her  away,*  and  Sister 
Vilate  was  able  to  persuade  Kimball  to  give  Louise  such  a 
bill  ;  but  could  not  procure  for  her  the  privilege  of  liv- 
ing with  her  brother  and  sisters.  As  soon  as  she  was 
divorced  the  Prophet  had  her  removed  to  his  own  house- 
hold, ostensibly  to  act  as  governess  for  some  of  his  children, 
but  really  that  there  might  be  no  hindrance  in  the  way 
when  he  should  see  fit  to  marry  her  to  one  of  his  followers. 

She  had  now  been  two  years  in  his  family,  and,  as  yet, 
no  further  harm  had  befallen  her.  She  attended  faithfully 
and  quietly  to  her  daily  duties,  and  won  the  hearts,  not 
only  of  the  children  under  her  care,  but  of  the  women  in 
the  Prophet's  household.  She  was  always  gentle  and 
patient,  and,  so  far  as  those  around  her  could  see,  content 
with  her  lot. 

In  the  mean  time  both  her  sisters  had  grown  to  woman- 
hood. Blanche,  at  fifteen,  was  as  tall  as  Louise  herself, 
and  Catherine,  though  only  seventeen,  had  the  face  and 
manners  of  a  mature  woman.  They  still  lived  with  their 
brother,  and  the  little  household,  as  Louise  found  out  »t  an 
early  day,  was  often  in  straitened  circumstances. 

Madame  La  Tour's  effects,  which  were  brought  to  the 
Territory,  had  never  been  restored  to  her  family,  but  the 
Prophet  had  continued  his  plan  of  "  assisting"  Philip  by 
furnishing  him  with  small  supplies  from  time  to  time.  He 
had  also  loaned  him  a  team,  and  with  this  and  his  own 
labor  the  young  man  had  done  his  best  to  support  his 
sisters. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  G,  page  341. 


t04        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

His  loyalty  to  the  Prophet  never  wavered,  though  his 
inherited  pride  made  him  restive  under  what  seemed  his 
constant  dependence  on  others.  At  length,  one  day,  when 
emboldened  by  some  unusual  kindness  on  the  part  of  his 
leader  to  speak  freely  to  him,  he  ventured  to  ask  some 
questions  about  the  money  which  his  father  at  his  death  left 
in  the  hands  of  the  authorities  of  the  Church,  to  be  held  in 
trust  for  his  children. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  the  Prophet  said,  in  his  most  paternal 
tone,  "  have  you  ever  asked  yourself  how  much  it  has  cost 
the  Church  to  provide  for  all  of  you,  and  take  care  of  you 
as  you  have  been  taken  care  of  ever  since  your  father's 
death  ?" 

Philip  was  silent  and  abashed  for  a  moment. 

"  I  thought,"  he  faltered  at  length,  "  that  my  mother  had 
a  small  income  which  lasted  as  long  as  she  lived.  I  know 
she  had  still  a  little  money  when  we  came  here." 

"  Yes,  money  which  I  loaned  her,"  was  the  cool  response. 
"  The  fact  is,  Philip,  it  is  now  ten  years  since  your  father's 
death,  and  he  left  a  large,  and  in  some  respects  a  very 
helpless  family  to  be  cared  for.  All  of  you  had  been  used 
to  luxuries,  and  we  did  our  best  to  provide  for  you  in  such 
a  way  that  you  should  not  feel  the  loss  of  anything.  We 
would  have  been  glad  to  take  care  of  you  without  using  any 
part  of  the  little  sum  which  your  father  left ;  but  that  was 
not  possible." 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  sum  was  ?"  Philip  wondered 
at  his  own  boldness  as  he  made  this  inquiry.  It  seemed 
to  him  like  calling  his  Prophet  to  account. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  the  exact  figures  without  consulting 
my  books,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  have  heard  my  mother  say  something  about  thirty- 
five  thousand  dollars,"  Philip  began,  more  timidly  than 
before. 


THE  PROPHET'S  PROFITS.  105 

"  Thirty-five  thousand  !  Why,  your  father  did  not  have 
one  third  of  that  sum  when  he  came  to  Nauvoo.  As  I  have 
said,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  exact  amount  he  left,  but  this 
much  I  do  know,  there  is  only  five  hundred  dollars  coming 
to  you.  That  was  just  the  balance  in  your  favor  the  last 
time  I  looked  over  the  account,  and  I  calculate  to  give  you 
a  deed  for  the  house  and  lot  you  occupy  for  the  five  hun- 
dred. To  be  sure,  the  place  is  worth  more  than  that,  but 
you  are  like  a  son  to  me,  and  I  am  glad  to  do  you  a  favor, 
no  matter  what  the  cost  may  be  to  myself." 

What  could  Philip  say  ?  In  his  heart  he  knew  that  the 
Prophet  was  doing  him  an  injustice,  but  he  would  not  ad- 
mit the  fact  even  to  himself.  The  man  who  stood  between 
him  and  God,  who  was  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Almighty, 
could  do  no  wrong.  He  felt  as  a  Christian  might  feel,  when 
tempted  to  question  the  ways  of  Divine  Providence,  to  ask» 
"  Why  hast  thou  dealt  thus  with  me  ?" 

But  more  severe  tests  of  his  loyalty  awaited  him.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  of  '53,  in  spite  of  his  utmost  efforts,  he 
could  not  keep  want  from  his  door.  His  own  and  his  sis- 
ters' clothing  grew  shabby  and  worn,  and  their  meals  were 
coarse  and  scanty.  Catherine  fell  sick,  and  their  prospects 
became  more  gloomy  than  ever,  when  a  company  of  return- 
ing Californians  stopped  in  Utah  on  their  way  to  the  States, 
and  brought  Philip  the  first  news  he  had  had  of  his  absent 
brothers  since  the  day  that  he  parted  with  them.  They 
brought  also  what,  in  the  present  distressed  condition  of 
the  family,  was  a  most  welcome  gift — namely,  a  hundred 
dollars  in  gold,  which  Charles  and  Francis  had  sent  to  their 
sisters.  The  next  morning,  while  Philip  was  consulting 
with  Catherine  as  to  the  best  manner  in  which  to  lay  out 
the  money  that  had  arrived  so  opportunely,  a  messenger 
came  to  summon  him  to  the  Prophet's  presence. 

"Philip,"  said  his  leader  very  gravely,  as  soon  as  the 


io6         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

youth  stood  before  him,  "  I  have  sent  for  you  and  for  a 
good  many  of  the  younger  brethren  to-day,  to  remind  you 
that  the  work  of  the  Lord  is  standing  still,  because  you  do 
not  bring  your  tithing  into  His  storehouse.  Thousands  of 
poor  Saints  are  waiting  to  gather  to  these  valleys  of  the 
mountains,  but  we  have  no  means  to  help  them  on  their 
way.  We  are  commanded  to  hasten  the  building  of  the 
Temple,  but  the  Church  has  no  money — no,  not  so  much  as 
to  finish  the  foundation.  I  grieve  to  say  it,  but  I  feel  that 
the  wrath  of  God  will  be  poured  out  on  this  people  if  their 
tithes  are  not  paid  in  full.  I  have  looked  to  you  to  set  an 
example  to  the  others  ;  but  you  must  know  yourself  that 
your  tithing  has  not  been  paid  for  many  months." 

"  We  have  been  so  very  poor,"  Philip  began  humbly. 

The  Prophet's  eyes  flashed.  "  Take  care,"  he  said. 
"  You  can't  deceive  the  Almighty.  This  very  minute  you 
have  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold  in  your  possession." 

"  It  is  not  mine,"  Philip  found  courage  to  say. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  was  the  triumphant  answer.  "  It  is  not 
yours,  but  the  Lord's.     Are  you  going  to  keep  it  back  ?" 

"  That  is  not  what  I  meant  to  say.  The  money  belongs 
to  my  sisters.     It  was  sent  to  them." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  make  that  an  excuse  for  with- 
holding your  tithing  ?  Ah,  Philip,"  shaking  his  head 
mournfully,  "  I  did  not  expect  this  of  you.  I  am  afraid 
your  heart  is  not  right. ' ' 

"  I  want  to  pay  my  tithing,"  Philip  answered,  "  but  you 
do  not  know  how  destitute  we  are,  and  Catherine  is  sick." 

"  More  excuses  !  I  thought  I  had  taught  you  to  give  up 
everything  to  the  Lord,  and  trust  Him  to  provide  for  your 
wants." 

Philip  was  silenced.  The  pale  face  of  his  sister,  the 
vision  of  his  home,  so  bare  of  comforts,  and  his  own  sense 
of  right  availed  nothing  against  the  subtle  arguments  of  his 


THE   PROPHET'S  PROFITS.  107 

chief,  backed  by  the  assumption  of  divine  authority,  and  in 
the  end  he  not  only  paid  over  all  the  money  his  brothers 
had  sent,  but  drove  his  only  cow  to  the  Tithing  Yard  to 
settle  the  arrears  which  the  Prophet  declared  to  be  still 
due.* 

Louise  knew  all  this,  but  she  could  not  interfere  in  any 
way,  nor  had  she  any  means  with  which  to  help  her  sisters. 
She  taught  the  Prophet's  children,  and  was  boarded  and 
clothed  for  her  services  ;  but  she  had  no  money.  Cather- 
ine seemed  nearer  to  her  than  any  other  member  of  their 
scattered  family,  and  the  thought  of  her  sickness  and  desti- 
tution wrung  her  heart ;  but  she  was  not  even  allowed  to 
visit  her. 

How  Philip  accounted  to  his  sisters  for  the  disposition  he 
had  made  of  their  money  she  could  not  learn  ;  but  she 
heard  enough  from  others  to  know  that  he  redoubled  his 
own  exertions  to  provide  for  them,  so  that  before  winter 
set  in  they  were  at  least  saved  from  actual  suffering. 

Early  in  December,  Philip,  whom  she  sometimes  saw  at 
the  Prophet's  house,  brought  her  word  that  Catherine  was 
to  be  married  at  Christmas ;  and  to  her  great  relief,  when 
the  name  of  her  intended  husband  was  mentioned,  it  was 
that  of  a  young  man  who,  as  she  had  good  reason  to  be- 
lieve, was  thoroughly  cured  of  his  faith  in  Mormonism. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  this  was  not  a  thing  to  be  talked  of 
publicly.  No  man  in  Utah  who  valued  his  life  ever  uttered 
a  whisper  of  dissent  in  those  days,  except  to  friends  whose 
faith  in  the  Prophet  was  as  weak  as  his  own  ;  but  Robert 
Kenyon  had  never  been  suspected  of  heresy,  and  for  a  year 
past  he  had  been  employed  much  of  the  time  about  some 
buildings  that  were  being  erected  upon  the  ten  acres  which 
were  set  apart  for  Brigham  Young's  private  grounds.     In 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  H,  page  343. 


lo8         THE   FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

this  way  it  happened  that  he  often  met  Louise,  and  the  free- 
masonry which  existed  among  the  disaffected  soon  made 
them  aware  of  each  other's  views.  His  acquaintance  with 
Catherine  had  been  short,  but  it  seemed  to  be  a  case  of  love 
at  first  sight  on  both  sides.  The  Prophet,  for  a  wonder, 
had  no  objections  to  make  to  the  marriage  when  Robert, 
with  due  humility,  asked  his  consent,  and  he  was  likewise 
gracious  enough  to  grant  their  request  to  be  married  by 
him  in  his  office,  without  going  through  the  Endowment 
House,  Kenyon  alleging  Catherine's  delicate  health  as  a 
reason  for  wishing  to  put  off  receiving  their  endowments 
until  spring. 

Soon  after  the  marriage  the  Prophet,  in  a  fit  of  good  na- 
ture, gave  Louise  permission  to  visit  Catherine  in  her  new 
home.  This  was  almost  the  first  opportunity  that  the  sis- 
ters had  enjoyed  of  talking  freely  together  since  the 
memorable  day  when  they  met  on  the  path  above  Burch's 
cabin.  On  the  few  occasions  when  Louise  had  been 
allowed  to  visit  her  family,  Philip  had  been  at  home,  and 
when  she  and  Catherine  met  elsewhere  it  was  always  in 
the  presence  of  others. 

To-day  Louise  found  the  young  wife  alone.  They  talked 
long  and  earnestly  of  their  own  affairs,  and  of  their  mother, 
whom  Catherine,  with  strange  persistence,  still  spoke  of  as 
living,  though  she  admitted  that  she  had  never  been  able 
to  find  the  faintest  trace  of  her  existence  since  the  day  that 
she  disappeared. 

"  And  I  have  tried  too,"  she  said  ;  "  secretly,  of  course. 
One  must  be  secret  about  everything  in  this  miserable 
country.  I  feel  as  though  I  was  breathing  an  atmosphere 
of  lies  all  of  the  time,  and  it  suffocates  me  ;  but  I  have 
worked  in  the  dark,  and  in  underhand  ways,  like  all  the 
rest  here,  because  I  wanted  to  find  mother." 

"  And  you  have  discovered  nothing  ?" 


THE   PKOPHET'S  PROFITS.  I09 

*•  No,  nothing  ;  but,  my  dear,  I  must  not  make  you  un- 
happy on  this  first  visit,  by  dwelling  on  a  sorrow  that  can- 
not be  healed.  Come,  let  us  talk  no  more  about  it.  I  will 
get  dinner,  and  you  shall  help  me.  We  will  take  our  din- 
ner alone,  because  Robert  will  not  be  home  until  long 
after  dark  to-night." 

While  they  were  sitting  at  table,  Catherine  asked  suddenly, 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  about  Margaret  Denys  ?" 

"No.     What  of  her  ?" 

"  She  was  sealed  to  Apostle  Woodford  yesterday." 

"I  can't  say  that  I  am  surprised,"  Louise  answered, 
"  for  nothing  that  is  done  here  surprises  me  ;  but  her  hus- 
band will  be  home  in  a  few  days,  and  unless  he  has 
changed  greatly  there  will  be  an  outbreak  that  will  end 
just  as  that  affair  of  the  Penfields'  ended  last  year.  George 
Denys  is  not  the  man  to  stand  quietly  by  and  see  his  wife 
given  away  to  another,  even  though  that  other  may  be  an 
apostle." 

*'  But  in  this  case  there  has  been  no  giving  away," 
Catherine  answered.  "It  is  all  Margaret's  own  doings. 
She  asked  for  a  divorce  herself,  and  asked  several  times 
before  she  got  it.  For  my  part,  I  wonder  how  a  man  like 
George  Denys  ever  came  to  love  such  a  woman  ;  but  I  sup- 
pose he  was  taken  with  her  pink  cheeks  and  blue  eyes,  just 
as  Apostle  Woodford  is  taken  with  her  now." 

"  Margaret  is  weak,  not  wicked,"  Louise  said  earnestly. 
"  I  believe  she  really  loved  her  husband  once — loved  him 
even  when  he  went  away  on  this  mission  ;  but  he  has  been 
gone  three  years,  and  during  all  this  time  she  has  been 
listening  constantly  to  such  talk  as  we  are  all  compelled  to 
listen  to  every  Sunday  ;  and  being,  as  I  said,  weak  and 
easily  influenced,  she  believes  that  the  apostle  will  give  her 
a  place  in  the  next  world  that  she  could  never  reach  as  the 
wife  of  plain  George  Denys." 


no         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  such  folly,"  Catherine  began  ; 
but  she  stopped  short  when  she  saw  the  pained  look  on  her 
sister's  face.  She  did  not  know  all  of  Louise's  history,  but 
she  had  heard  enough  and  guessed  enough  to  be  aware 
that  she  too  had  once  listened  willingly  to  teachings  that 
afterward  bore  bitter  fruit. 

"  I  hope  some  p>erson  who  has  a  little  influence  with 
Denys  will  be  the  one  to  break  the  news  to  him  when  he 
comes,"  she  said  after  a  few  minutes'  silence. 

"  So  do  I,"  Louise  answered.  "  I  don't  want  to  see  him 
throw  his  life  away,  as  he  will  be  sure  to  do  if  he  acts  as  a 
husband  would  act  anywhere  else  under  the  same  circum- 
stances." 

"  Louise,  you  know  what  became  of  Penfield.  Is  not 
that  true  ?" 

"  Don't  ask  me."  Louise  shuddered,  and  her  pale  face 
grew  still  paler,  "  What  I  know  I  cannot  help  knowing. 
I  would  be  ignorant  if  I  could.  I  would  gladly  be  blind 
and  deaf  while  my  home  is  inside  those  walls,  but  what  I 
am  forced  to  know  I  do  not  want  to  recall." 

"  I  should  be  afraid  in  your  place,"  Catherine  said, 
"  that  since  I  was  not  blind  and  deaf,  the  Prophet  would 
take  a  sure  method  of  making  me  dumb." 

Louise  shook  her  head.  "  Brigham  Young  fears  nothing 
from  one  like  me.  He  thinks  that  I  am  completely  crushed 
— that  I  am  his  slave,  body  and  soul,  but  even  if  this  were 
not  so,  I  should  not  feel  myself  in  any  danger." 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?" 

"  I  believe  in  God." 

Catherine  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,"  Louise  continued.  "  I  was 
not  thinking  of  the  God  these  wretches  worship — a  God  of 
blood  and  cruelty — but  of  our  mother's  God — of  the  God 
she  taught  us  to  pray  to  in  the  dear  old  home.     You  have 


THE  PROPHET'S  PROFITS.  m 

not  forgotten,  have  you,  the  nursery  with  the  high  windows 
and  the  crimson  hangings,  and  the  bed  by  which  we  used 
to  kneel  ?  I  could  not  forget  it  if  I  should  live  a  thousand 
years." 

Catherine's  face  softened.  "  I  remember,"  she  said 
gently,  "though  it  is  almost  like  a  dream  now;  but  you 
know  that  ever  since  I  was  eight  years  old  I  have  heard 
the  name  of  God  used  as  a  shield  for  all  manner  of  wicked- 
ness. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Louise  answered,  "and  I  have  seen 
hands  that  were  red  with  murder  raised  in  prayer  ;  but  is 
that  a  reason  why  I  should  not  pray  to  the  God  who  abhors 
the  evil  that  is  done  in  His  name  ?" 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  at  the  time  referred  to  a 
conversation  like  the  foregoing  could  be  safely  carried  on 
under  ordinary  circumstances.  The  system  of  espionage 
adopted  by  the  Mormon  leaders  at  the  very  outset  had  now 
been  brought  to  such  perfection  that  every  person's  com- 
ings and  goings  were  strictly  watched,  and  the  private 
affairs  of  every  family  were  as  well  known  to  the  priest- 
hood as  their  place  of  residence.  No  one  dared  marry  or 
be  given  in  marriage  ;  move  from  one  place  to  another, 
buy  or  sell,  or  make  any  business  or  domestic  changes 
whatever,  in  opposition  to  "  counsel." 

Husbands  and  wives,  parents  and  children,  friends  and 
neighbors,  were  required  to  be  spies  upon  each  other,  and 
the  secret  police  shadowed  every  man's  steps. 

Louise's  visit  to  her  sister,  however,  was  made  by  the 
Prophet's  express  permission,  and  neither  she  nor  Cather- 
ine were  suspected  of  the  slightest  leaning  toward  apostasy. 
Louise  said  rightly  that  her  own  spirit  was  supposed  to  be 
completely  crushed,  and  in  general  her  master  took  no 
more  notice  of  her  and  attached  no  more  importance  to  her 
presence  than  if  she  had  been  a  five-year-old  child. 


112         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Robert  Kenyon's  house  was  not  watched  as  that  of  a 
suspjccted  person  would  have  been,  and  the  sisters,  seated 
in  an  inner  room,  with  closed  doors  and  windows,  knew 
there  was  no  danger  that  their  low-toned  conversation  would 
be  overheard. 

They  would  have  been  bold  indeed  if  they  had  uttered 
such  opinions  or  mentioned  such  facts  where  there  might 
possibly  have  been  unseen  listeners  ;  for  no  one's  life  was 
worth  an  hour's  purchase  who  was  known  to  question  the 
authority  of  the  Prophet,  or  to  denounce  the  crimes  of  the 
priesthood.  And  then,  too,  the  Mormon  hierarchy  knew 
how  to  take  life  with  unheard-of  refinements  of  cruelty. 

Oh,  if  the  dark  recesses  of  the  cafions  had  a  voice,  if  the 
blood  that  stains  the  sod  could  speak,  if  the  night-wind 
could  bear  on  its  wings  the  cries  that  fell  on  unpitying 
ears,  what  a  tale  of  horror  would  be  unfolded  \  But  the 
dead  are  silent.  The  crumbling  skeletons  hidden  under 
piles  of  rocks  do  not  stir  in  their  resting-places.  The 
bottomless  springs  of  the  south,  in  which  many  a  victim  of 
priestly  cruelty  has  found  a  grave,  keep  safely  that  which 
was  committed  to  them,  and  the  cries  of  the  tortured  cap- 
tives in  the  Black  Vault  have  never  been  able  to  pierce  the 
thick  walls  and  smite  on  the  ear  of  the  passer-by. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PLANS     FOR    ESCAPE. 

It  is  high  noon  upon  the  Wasatch  peaks.  The  May  sun- 
light, reflected  from  vast  beds  of  untrodden  snow,  fills  the 
whole  atmosphere  with  a  blinding  glare.  The  mountain 
torrents,  swollen  by  the  streams  that  pour  into  them  from 
every  gorge,  rush  down  their  steep  channels,  and  leap  from 
ledge  to  ledge  with  a  noise  like  that  of  an  avalanche. 

A  few  birds  flitting  in  and  out  of  the  stunted  timber 
along  the  gulch  are  the  only  living  creatures  in  sight.  A 
rough  and  narrow  trail,  rendered  more  uneven  and  difficult 
by  detached  masses  of  rock  which  have  rolled  down  from 
the  sides  of  the  mountain,  follows  the  course  of  the  stream 
that  takes  its  rise  at  the  highest  point  of  the  divide  which 
must  be  crossed  in  order  to  reach  the  valleys  east  of  the 
range. 

A  wagon-road  could  not  possibly  be  built  over  this 
divide,  and  the  route  would  be  considered  impracticable 
by  horsemen  less  accustomed  to  difficult  feats  than  the 
pioneers  of  the  Great  Basin. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  travelers  crossed  the 
range  by  a  road  several  miles  to  the  north,  which  was  pass- 
able for  teams  during  the  summer  months  ;  but  the  two 
horsemen  who  could  be  descried  a  long  way  down  the 
cafion  had  reasons  of  their  own  for  choosing  the  southern 
trail. 

The  foremost  of  the  two  was  Robert  Kenyon,  the  hus- 
band of  Catherine  La  Tour.  He  was  a  young  man,  not 
over  three-and-twenty,  but  a  giant  in  stature,  and  the  cool 


114         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

and  intrepid  spirit  which  looked  out  from  his  gray  eyes, 
joined  to  his  skill  in  the  use  of  arms,  would  have  made  him 
a  formidable  match  for  an  adversary.  Yet  neither  his 
strength,  his  skill,  nor  his  courage  availed  him  anything 
here,  where,  if  he  dared  to  assert  his  manhood,  spies  would 
dog  his  steps  by  day,  and  assassins  lie  in  wait  for  him  by 
night. 

His  companion  was  tall  and  slenderly  built,  with  long 
hair  and  beard,  once  brown,  but  now  thickly  sprinkled  with 
silver.  His  face  was  very  pale,  he  stooped  slightly,  and 
his  whole  aspect  was  that  of  one  lately  recovered  from 
severe  sickness.  This  man  was  George  Denys,  the  re- 
turned missionary  whose  wife  had  been  given  to  Apostle 
Woodford. 

About  half  way  up  the  cafion  the  trail  widened  for  a  few 
rods,  and  in  a  little  opening  among  the  rocks  the  travelers 
dismounted  for  their  noonday  meal.  The  wind  blowing 
from  the  snowy  peaks  made  the  day  cold  in  spite  of  the 
sunshine,  and  Denys  shivered  perceptibly. 

"  Shall  I  light  a  fire  ?"  asked  his  companion. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will,"  was  the  reply.  "  This  is  as  safe  a 
spot  as  we  shall  be  likely  to  find  for  talking  over  our 
affairs,"  glancing  as  he  spoke  at  the  sheer  precipice  that 
rose  for  a  hundred  feet  above  their  heads,  and  the  rushing, 
roaring  torrent  beside  the  trail. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  the  two  men  seated  themselves 
by  the  fire  with  their  backs  to  the  rocks,  and  in  such  a 
position  as  to  command  a  view  of  the  trail  for  a  consider- 
able distance  above  and  below.  Kenyon  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  If  these  precious  scoundrels  that  run  the  Church  don't 
change  their  minds  between  two  days,"  he  said,  "  I  will 
be  off  by  the  end  of  the  month — just  think  of  it,  on  a  mis- 
sion :  sent  by  the  Prophet  himself  to  build  up  and  extend 


PLANS  FOR   ESCAPE.  11$ 

the  kingdom  in  the  western  borders  of  the  country  that  he 
claims  by  right  of  discovery.  I  could  hardly  help  laughing 
in  his  face  when  he  blessed  me  last  week  as  a  special  prep- 
aration for  this  work.  I  wish  I  could  get  a  report  of  the 
blessing  pronounced  on  me  when  the  old  fox  finds  that  I 
have  outwitted  him,  and  that  Catherine  and  I  are  safe  in 
California." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  in  such  good  spirits,"  was  the 
reply ;  "  but  I  must  remind  you  that  the  need  of  caution 
will  not  cease  when  you  reach  Carson.  A  good  many 
brethren  who  are  weak  in  the  faith  meet  with  fatal  acci- 
dents, or  are  '  killed  by  Indians,'  even  there." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  so  ;  but  you  see,  I  shall  not  grow 
weak  in  the  faith  until  I  have  shaken  the  dust  of  that  place 
from  my  feet.  I  shall  remain  and  attend  diligently  to  all 
my  duties  until  the  next  train  bound  for  California  or 
Oregon  comes  along,  and  then  good-by.  The  only  thing 
that  troubles  me  is  the  idea  of  stealing  away  as  I  must — as 
anybody  must  who  gets  away  at  all — like  a  thief  in  the 
night." 

"  You  are  a  happy  man  to  have  no  greater  trouble." 

Denys  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  and  was  silent  for 
some  minutes.  When  he  looked  up  again  there  was  a  spot 
of  color  on  his  pale  cheeks,  and  his  voice  trembled  slightly. 

"  I  cannot  do  otherwise  than  wish  you  God  speed,"  he 
said,  "  though  your  going  will  leave  me  without  a  friend  to 
whom  I  dare  speak.  You  deserve  your  liberty,  and  I  pray 
that  you  may  get  it.  You  and  your  wife  are  here  only  be- 
cause your  parents  brought  you  into  the  Church  when  you 
were  too  young  to  act  for  yourselves,  while  I  deliberately 
abandoned  a  Christian  home,  and  broke  the  heart  of  my 
gray-haired  father,  for  the  sake  of  joining  myself  to  these 
wretches,  and  shut  my  eyes  to  the  crimes  they  committed 
in  the  name  of  religion  until  I  was  made  a  victim  myself. 


Xl6        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

That  is  the  thought  that  always  checks  me  when  I  am 
tempted  to  exclaim,  '  My  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can 
bear.'  " 

"It  is  not  a  reason,  though,  why  you  should  stay  here 
until  worse  comes  upon  you." 

Denys  shook  his  head.  "  For  me  there  is  nothing  worse 
to  come,"  he  said.  "  I  had  nothing  in  this  life  except 
Margaret,  and  after  she  was  taken  from  me  I  was  incapa- 
ble of  feeling  any  added  wrongs.  When  she  died,  killed 
by  the  miseries  that  awaited  her  in  that  polygamous  house- 
hold, and  by  her  own  remorse,  I  knew  they  could  not  stab 
me  again  through  her.  If  she  had  lived,  they  might  have 
done  so,  for  I  loved  her — loved  her  to  the  last." 

Kenyon's  face  expressed  both  astonishment  and  incredu- 
lity.    His  companion  observed  his  look  and  went  on  : 

"  You  wonder  that  I  did  not  hate  her.  Why  should  I  ? 
The  poor  child  only  obeyed  the  doctrines  that  I  myself  had 
taught.  Like  you,  she  was  brought  up  in  this  accursed 
community,  and  knew  no  other  religion.  How  then  could 
I  blame  her  ?  I  did  not  blame  her.  I  pitied  her  from  my 
soul,  and  from  my  soul  I  was  thankful  when  death  released 
her  from  her  sufferings." 

"  And  yet,  what  she  did  or  was  led  to  do  uprooted  all 
your  faith  in  Mormonism." 

"  True,  because,  as  I  have  said,  when  other  crimes  were 
committed  I  was  only  a  spectator  ;  this  time  I  was  a  vic- 
tim. If  you  could  know  how  constantly  the  image  of  my 
wife  was  with  me  every  day  of  those  three  years  of  ab- 
sence, and  how  the  hope  of  seeing  her  kept  me  up  on  our 
terrible  return  trip  across  the  plains  !  It  was  late  in  Sep- 
tember when  we  reached  Iowa,  and  common  prudence 
warned  us  not  to  attempt  the  journey  until  spring  ;  but  the 
other  men  had  families  in  Salt  Lake  as  well  as  I,  and  we 
thought  we  would  brave  anything  rather  than  stay  away 


PLANS  FOR  ESCAPE.  I17 

from  them  six  months  longer  ;  at  least  that  was  the  way  I 
felt,  and  I  persuaded  the  others  to  make  the  venture  with 
me. 

"  You  know  a  little  of  what  we  suffered,  but  you  could 
not  begin  to  realize  our  hardships  without  experiencing 
them  yourself.  Yet,  as  I  said,  the  thought  that  every 
mile  we  traveled  brought  us  nearer  home  kept  us  up,  and 
then — and  then — the  message  which  told  me  I  no  longer 
had  a  home  was  brought  to  me  just  as  I  caught  sight  of 
the  house  that  was  mine  once." 

Again  Denys  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  shook  as 
if  in  an  ague-fit.  Kenyon  laid  his  arm  gently  around  his 
shoulder. 

"  George,  old  friend,  don't  call  that  up,"  he  said,  as 
tenderly  as  a  woman. 

The  giant  carried  an  affectionate  and  impressible  heart 
in  his  broad  bosom,  and  the  sight  of  this  hopeless  sorrow 
was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"Come,  rouse  yourself,"  he  continued.  "You  are  a 
man,  and  too  good  a  man  to  stay  among  these  cutthroats. 
In  the  world  outside  you  may  find,  if  not  happiness,  at 
least  occupation  that  will  keep  you  from  brooding  over 
your  troubles,  and  friends  who  will  stand  by  you.  Prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  make  the  attempt  to  get  away." 

"  I  can  do  nothing  just  now.  There  is  no  chance  of  my 
being  sent  west,  but  it  is  just  possible  that  I  may  be 
chosen  to  accompany  the  emigration  to  San  Bernardino  in 
the  fall." 

"  Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  I  think  I  have  heard  your 
name  mentioned  in  connection  with  that  mission.  You 
know,  I  suppose,  that  the  Prophet" — Kenyon  placed  an  in- 
describable emphasis  on  this  word — "  is  well  satisfied  with 
your  conduct,  and  has  the  greatest  confidence  in  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 


Il8         THE  FATE   OE  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  And  that  puts  you  in  a  position  to  help  others.  Cather- 
ine feels  much  anxiety  about  her  sister  Louise,  who  is  not 
allowed  to  go  with  us." 

"  Louise  !  I  thought  her  one  of  the  Prophet's  worship- 
ers." 

"  Louise  loathes  and  detests  him  and  his  teachings,  and 

she  has  borne  up  so  well  under  sufferings  that  would  kill 

most  women,  it  seems  to  me  she  deserves  to  escape  ;  but 

just  now  the  way  is  barred.     I  think,  however,  that  you 

may  be  able  to  do  something  toward  helping  her," 
..  J  p.. 

"  Yes,  if  you  go  to  San  Bernardino.  If  she  could  get 
there  it  would  be  possible  for  her  to  communicate  with  her 
brothers,  who  are  in  California." 

"  No  one  could  be  more  willing  than  I  to  help  her  or  any- 
one else  who  wishes  to  get  away  from  here  ;  but  I  cannot 
do  anything  to  befriend  her  while  she  thinks  me  still  a  slave 
of  the  Prophet." 

"  I  will  find  means  to  let  her  know  where  you  stand,  and 
will  give  you  the  key  to  the  signals  by  means  of  which  she 
and  Catherine  are  able  to  say  what  they  wish  when  in  the 
presence  of  others.  Poor  girl  !  She  may  need  a  friend 
badly  enough  when  we  are  gone." 

"  I  am  surprised  to  learn  that  she  feels  as  you  say  she 
does.  The  family  seem  very  much  attached  to  her,  and  I 
supposed  she  was  with  them  from  choice." 

"  You  do  not  know  her  history  then  ?" 

"No." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  you.  It  can  do  no  harm  for 
you  to  know  it  now." 

Then  choosing  his  words  as  carefully  as  possible,  but 
still  keeping  back  no  part  of  the  truth,  Robert  Kenyon 
unfolded  a  tale  which,  so  it  seemed  to  his  listener,  should 
have  caused  the  very  stones  at  their  feet  to  cry  out  against 


PLANS  FOR  ESCAPE.  II9 

the  stupendous  system  of  villainy  and  outrage  which  had 
enthroned  itself  in  these  valleys  under  the  name  of  religion. 

"  It  is  monstrous — incredible  !"  Denys  exclaimed  when 
the  recital  was  ended  ;  "  and  yet,  why  should  it  not  be 
true  ?  There  is  no  form  nor  degree  of  crime  that  the  lead- 
ers of  this  people  are  incapable  of.  Rest  assured,  Robert, 
that  this  poor  girl  will  have  at  least  one  friend  when  you 
are  away,  and  I  will  make  for  her  the  effort  that  it  seemed 
not  worth  while  to  make  for  myself.  If  there  is  a  possi- 
bility of  getting  her  away  from  this  valley  I  will  find  it 
out. ' ' 

"  That  is  spoken  like  yourself,  George,  and  Catherine 
and  I  will  go  with  lighter  hearts,  knowing  that  you  will 
befriend  her." 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  declined  perceptibly  from  the 
meridian,  their  fire  had  burned  out,  and  Denys,  rising, 
called  his  companion's  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  was  time 
for  them  to  be  on  their  way  if  they  did  not  wish  night  to 
overtake  them  in  the  mountains. 

The  errand  on  which  they  were  sent  took  them  to  a 
small  settlement  which  had  been  recently  made  in  one  ot 
the  fertile  eastern  valleys. 

"  See  how  this  curse  is  spreading,"  Kenyon  observed  to 
his  companion  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  valley. 

"  If  the  deluded  Saints  continue  to  gather  to  Zion  at  the 
present  rate,  in  ten  years  Brigham  Young  will  have  his 
subjects  scattered  over  the  whole  country  between  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Sierras." 

"  I  hope  before  that  time  the  Government  will  see  the 
necessity  of  laying  a  strong  hand  on  him,"  Denys  said; 
"  and  if  the  nation  does  not  hear  something  of  his  crimes, 
it  will  not  be  my  fault." 

Two  weeks  after  the  friends  returned  from  their  journey, 
Robert  Kenyon  and  his  wife  left  Salt  Lake  in  company 


I20         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

with  about  twenty  families  who  had  been  ordered  out  to 
build  up  a  Mormon  colony  within  the  limits  of  the  present 
State  of  Nevada.  For  many  years  after  taking  possession 
of  Utah,  Brigham  Young  devoted  much  attention  to  estab- 
lishing outposts  (called  stakes  of  Zion)  beyond  the  present 
territorial  lines,*  and  the  men  selected  as  pioneers  were, 
for  obvious  reasons,  those  on  whom  he  supposed  he  could 
rely  implicitly.  It  occasionally  happened,  however,  that 
his  cunning  overreached  itself,  and  that  men  who  wished 
to  be  sent  to  those  outposts,  in  order  that  they  might  es- 
cape from  his  rule,  were  able  to  counterfeit  loyalty  to  the 
Church  so  successfully  that  they  were  chosen  by  him  to  go 
on  such  missions  without  soliciting  the  privilege. 

Apart  from  the  hope  of  escape,  there  was  nothing  to 
tempt  even  the  most  adventurous  to  those  distant  settle- 
ments, and  those  who  were  not  influenced  by  such  hopes 
went  only  because  they  dared  not  disobey  "  counsel." 
The  valleys  of  Utah  are  fertile,  well  watered  and  easily  cul- 
tivated, and  the  climate  is  delightful  ;  but  beyond  the  west- 
ern limits  of  the  Territory  the  face  of  the  country  is  so 
mountainous  and  the  narrow  valleys  are  so  sterile  that 
even  at  this  date  few  of  them  have  an  agricultural  popula- 
tion. 

The  emigrant  train  set  out  late  in  May,  1855.  The 
women  of  the  company  took  leave  of  their  friends  with 
tears,  and  the  men  looked  depressed  and  anxious — all  ex- 
cept Kenyon  and  his  wife,  whom  the  Prophet  praised  pub- 
licly for  obejdng  counsel  cheerfully. 

Kenyon  had  found  means  to  keep  his  word,  both  with 
Denys  and  with  Louise,  and  they  understood  each  other's 
true  position  ;  but  for  more  than  two  months  they  had  no 
opportunity  of  communicating  unobserved. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  I,  page  343. 


PLANS  FOR  ESCAPE.  I«I 

At  length  chance,  or  rather,  shall  we  not  say  ?  the  Provi- 
dence which  watches  over  the  helpless  and  oppressed, 
opened  the  way  for  them  to  talk  freely  of  the  only  plan  of 
escape  that  seemed  practicable.  One  of  the  Prophet's 
wives  living  at  Provo,  a  settlement  forty  miles  south  of 
Salt  Lake,  sent  for  Louise  to  assist  in  the  care  of  her  sick 
child,  and  Denys,  who  owned  a  good  team,  was  asked  by 
Brigham  to  take  her  there. 

It  was  not  customary  to  make  excuses  when  requested 
by  the  Head  of  the  Church  to  perform  any  service,  and 
Denys'  ready  consent  awakened  neither  surprise  nor  suspi- 
cion. As  for  Louise,  she  made  ready  for  the  journey  with 
the  air  of  quiet  resignation  with  which  she  obeyed  all  the 
commands  of  the  Prophet ;  but  she  nevertheless  contrived 
to  leave  the  impression  that  she  went  unwillingly. 

Their  road  lay  through  an  unsettled  portion  of  the  coun- 
try, bare  of  timber,  as  is  the  case  with  all  the  valleys  of 
Utah,  and  affording  no  hiding-place  for  spies.  For  almost 
the  first  time  since  she  left  her  mother's  house  Louise  felt 
herself  unwatched.  The  man  beside  her  was  her  friend, 
and  more  than  this,  he  rejected  all  the  claims  of  the  system 
that  set  spies  and  assassins  on  the  track  of  those  who  dared 
to  think  for  themselves. 

They  rode  for  a  little  way  in  silence  ;  then  as  the  signs 
of  human  habitation  began  to  disappear,  and  they  realized 
that  they  were  alone,  and,  for  a  few  hours  at  least,  free  from 
espionage,  they  began  to  talk  over  the  chances  of  escape. 

"  It  is  now  more  than  a  year  and  a  half  since  I  returned 
to  the  valley,"  Denys  s^id,  "  and  if  any  one  had  told  me  at 
first  that  I  could  live  so  long  while  forced  to  breathe  this 
accursed  atmosphere  of  treachery,  cruelty,  and  murder,  I 
would  not  have  believed  him." 

"  I  wonder  you  did  not  make  an  effort  to  get  away  last 
year,"  Louise  remarked. 


122         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  You  forget  that  I  was  sick  for  many  months.  I  hoped 
I  should  die — that  seemed  the  easiest  and  shortest  way  out 
— but  I  was  disappointed,  and  with  returning  health  came 
the  feeling  that  perhaps  there  might  be  a  life  worth  living 
somewhere  beyond  these  mountains  that  shut  us  in.  You 
know  I  did  not  come  among  the  Mormons  as  a  child. 
None  of  my  people  were  led  off  with  me,  and  my  father's 
family  would,  I  think,  receive  me  even  now. " 

"  I  am  thankful  for  you  that  you  have  such  friends.  I 
have  no  one  but  my  brothers,  and  my  only  hope  is  to  reach 
them." 

Louise  did  not  look  very  hopeful  as  she  spoke,  for  in  her 
heart  she  was  asking  herself, 

"  How  would  my  brothers  receive  me  if  they  knew  all  ?" 

Denys  did  not  reply  immediately,  and  when  he  spoke 
again  it  was  to  say, 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  the  company  bound  for  San 
Bernardino  starts  next  month." 

"  I  have  heard  so.     Are  you  going  with  them  ?" 

"  I  can  go  if  I  wish.  I  have  been  offered  the  choice  be- 
tween San  Bernardino  and  a  mission  to  the  States." 

"  But  you  will  go  to  the  States,  of  course,"  Louise  said, 
and  in  spite  of  herself  there  was  an  undertone  of  disap- 
pointment in  her  voice. 

Denys  turned  and  faced  her.  "  If  I  had  only  myself  to 
think  of,"  he  said,  "  I  should  go  to  the  States,  but  I  prom- 
ised your  sister  and  her  husband  that  I  would  help  you, 
and  therefore  I  am  going  to  San  Bernardino." 

"  And  do  you  think  it  possible  to  gain  permission  for  me 
to  go  too  ?" 

"  Yes.  There  is  one  way  by  which  I  think  I  can  succeed 
in  getting  you  a  place  in  the  company." 

"  Name  it." 

"  I  fear  I  may  both  shock  and  pain  you  ;  but  I  assure 


PLANS  FOR  ESCAPE.  123 

you  it  is  the  only  possible  chance  for  you.  You  must  go 
as  my  wife." 

Louise's  pale  face  flushed  scarlet,  and  her  eyes  dropped. 

"  You  have  not  heard  my  historj',  or  you  would  not  think 
of  such  a  thing,"  she  faltered,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  I  have  heard  your  history — all  of  it,"  was  the  answer, 
"  and  the  knowledge  of  your  cruel  wrongs  makes  me 
doubly  anxious  to  help  you.  Do  you  think  that,  in  my 
eyes,  the  least  shadow  of  blame  attaches  to  you,  because 
you  have  been  made  the  victim  of  a  system  which  I  myself 
have  helped  to  uphold  ?' ' 

"  You  are  good  and  generous,"  Louise  said  at  length, 
after  a  long  silence,  "  and  you  are  the  only  friend  I  have 
now  ;  but  it  seems  like  making  a  poor  return  for  your 
goodness  to  consent  to  be  your  wife.  I  know  nothing 
about  such  love  as  happier  women  have  experienced — such 
love  as  Catherine  feels  for  her  husband — " 

Denys  stopped  her.  "  My  poor  girl,"  he  said,  "  I  un- 
derstand that.  Neither  of  us  can  talk  of  marriage  as  men 
and  women  do  who  have  not  passed  under  this  blighting 
curse  ;  but  I  will  take  the  best  care  of  you  that  I  possibly 
can,  and  do  my  utmost  to  bring  a  little  brightness  into 
your  life,  and  I  have  no  fears  but  that  the  friendship  be- 
tween us  will  grow  into  a  more  tender  affection." 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  have  not  taken  into  account," 
Louise  said.  "  If  Brigham  Young  knows  that  I  desire  such 
an  arrangement,  or  that  I  consent  to  it  even,  he  will  never 
sanction  it.  The  only  way  in  which  he  can  be  brought  to 
agree  to  it,  will  be  by  allowing  him  to  think  that  I  am  un- 
willing." 

"  I  see  ;  but  I  believe  I  can  manage  that.  I  will  go  to 
him  as  soon  as  you  return.  He  has  already  counseled  me 
to  take  a  wife,  and  he  will  expect  me  to  fix  upon  some  one 
before  the  company  start.     We  all  know  that  a  woman's 


124         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

consent  is  thought  to  be  a  matter  of  small  importance,  and 
he  will  not  be  likely  to  ask  me  if  I  have  secured  yours. 
Are  you  willing  that  I  should  speak  to  him  ?" 

'*  I  am.  If  it  is  for  the  best  I  think  there  will  be  no  ob- 
stacles, and  if  it  is  not  for  the  best — for  both  of  us,  I  mean 
— I  shall  pray  that  some  other  way  of  escape  may  open." 

"  You  still  pray,  then  ?"  Denys  looked  at  her  half  pity- 
ingly, half  inquiringly. 

"  Yes.  I  pray  as  my  mother  taught  me  to  when  I  was 
an  innocent  child,  with  no  foreboding  of  misery  and 
shame." 

There  were  tears  in  her  dark  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and 
Denys  felt  an  answering  moisture  in  his  own. 

"  You  are  not  altogether  unhappy,  then,"  he  said  at 
length.  "  I  would  to  God  I  could  pray,  but  I  cannot. 
And  yet,  poor  child,  your  wrongs  have  been  greater  than 
mine,  and  inflicted  in  the  name  of  religion  too.  Maybe  I 
should  feel  differently  if  I  had  not  once  believed  in  this  ac- 
cursed system,  as  firmly  as  I  used  to  believe  in  my  mother's 
God." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  BLISTERING  DESERT. 

Early  in  August,  1855,  the  families  chosen  to  make  the 
difficult  and  perilous  journey  to  the  coast  by  the  way  of 
Arizona,  for  the  purpose  of  founding  a  Mormon  colony, 
were  instructed  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  start  on 
a  day's  notice. 

On  the  evening  after  receiving  these  instructions,  George 
Denys  repaired  to  the  Prophet's  office,  in  obedience  to  a 
message  from  him. 

A  few  days  before  this  he  had  signified  his  wish  to  marry 
Louise  La  Tour,  and  the  man  who  held  their  destinies  in 
his  hands  had  answered  that  he  would  "  think  about  it." 
From  present  indications  it  appeared  he  had  thought 
favorably.  He  received  Denys  graciously,  and  said  with- 
out preface, 

"  I  am  willing  to  give  Louise  to  you,  but  I  suppose  you 
know  it  can  be  only  a  marriage  for  time.  She  is  sealed  to 
Brother  Joseph  for  eternity." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,"  was  the  reply.  *'  Have  you 
spoken  to  Sister  Louise  yet  ?" 

"  I  have,  and  she  is  very  sullen — more  so  than  I  have 
ever  known  her  to  be — but  there  is  no  question  about  her 
obeying  me.  She  has  never  dared  to  rebel  against  coun- 
sel, and  she  knows  better  than  to  begin  to  do  so  now." 

The  sinister  look  that  so  many  in  Utah  have  abundant 
cause  to  remember,  darkened  the  face  of  the  Prophet  as  he 
spoke,  and  without  another  word  he  touched  the  bell  on 


126         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

his  table.  It  was  answered  by  one  of  the  guards  who 
always  kept  the  door. 

"  Let  Sister  Louise  know  that  I  want  her  here,"  he  said. 

The  man  went  out  and  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with 
Louise,  who  appeared  pale  and  downcast  enough  to  justify 
the  account  of  her  sullenness. 

"  Louise,"  said  her  master,  "  Brother  Denys,  whom  I 
wish  you  to  look  upon  as  your  husband,  is  present." 

Louise  did  not  raise  her  eyes. 

"  Step  this  way,"  the  Prophet  commanded  in  his  harsh- 
est tones. 

The  girl  obeyed. 

"  Now,  Brother  Denys,  stand  up  and  take  her  hand." 

As  soon  as  this  direction  was  complied  with,  the  Prophet 
repeated  the  marriage  service.  Louise's  replies  were  in- 
audible, and  her  master's  cruel  satisfaction  manifested 
itself  in  every  look  and  tone.  He  believed  that  he  was 
sacrificing  a  reluctant  and  shrinking  victim,  and  the  satanic 
malignity  which  was  so  strong  an  element  of  his  character 
made  it  a  pleasure  to  him.  He  would  add  this  night's 
work  to  the  list  of  his  revenges,  and  yet  the  punishment 
which  Madame  La  Tour  had  drawn  down  upon  herself  and 
her  children  would  not  be  complete. 

"  Now,  Brother  Denys,"  he  said,  when  the  ceremony 
was  concluded,  *'  take  your  wife  home  with  you.  The  train 
starts  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow,  and  you  have  no  time  to 
lose.  Never  mind  about  your  clothes,  Louise,  I  will  have 
them  sent  over  in  the  morning." 

"  May  I  not  say  good-by  to  the  children  ?"  Louise  asked. 

*'  No.     You  should  have  thought  of  that  before." 

"  Have  you  any  farther  instructions  for  me  ?"  Denys  in- 
quired. 

"  No.  Brother  Calder  has  all  the  necessary  orders  for 
the  company.     Good-night  ** 


THE  BLISTERING  DESERT.  H? 

The  Prophet  turned  to  the  papers  on  his  table  and  the 
two  who  were  thus  dismissed  passed  out. 

Once  beyond  the  gate  and  in  the  sheltering  darkness, 
Denys  pressed  encouragingly  the  trembling  hand  that  rested 
on  his  arm  ;  but  neither  dared  speak.  Their  prison  doors 
were  ajar,  but  a  single  word  might  close  them  again. 

Denys  was  boarding  at  the  house  ot  the  Ward  Bishop, 
and  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  introduce  his  wife  to 
the  rather  numerous  family  of  his  host.  Louise  went 
through  this  ordeal  with  the  same  sad  and  subdued  air  that 
she  had  worn  tor  days  previous,  and  some  of  the  women  of 
the  family  made  commiserating  remarks  as  she  left  the 
room  ;  but  others  were  of  the  opinion  that  she  ought  to  be 
content  with  her  lot. 

"  She's  a  first  wife  now,"  observed  Sister  Ann,  who  was 
herself  the  bishop's  fourth  spouse,  "  and  Brother  Denys  is 
so  easy-tempered  she'll  have  her  own  way  in  everything. 
I  don't  know,  for  my  part,  what  she's  got  to  complain  of." 

"  Maybe  she  don't  want  to  go  on  this  mission,"  suggest- 
ed Sister  Emma. 

"  It  is  more  likely  that  she  wanted  some  one  else,"  said 
the  youngest  wife,  who,  if  report  could  be  believed,  had 
looked  much  more  kindly  on  a  handsome  stripling  in  the 
neighborhood  than  on  the  gray-haired  bishop. 

Meanwhile  the  subject  of  their  conversation  was  sitting 
with  her  husband  in  a  room  piled  half  full  of  luggage  that 
should  have  been  put  into  the  wagons  before  night. 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  we  would  start  to-morrow," 
Denys  said,  "  and  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  be  allowed 
to  bring  you  here  to-night,  or  I  would  have  made  some 
better  arrangements  for  your  comfort.  Indeed,  I  hardly 
dared  hope  that  I  should  be  permitted  to  take  you  with  me 
at  all." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Prophet  made  up  his  mind 


128         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

until  after  he  talked  with  me,"  Louise  replied  ;  "  but  he  got 
the  impression  that  I  was  very  unwilling,  and  that  decided 
him." 

"  Just  imagine  what  his  feelings  will  be  when  he  learns 
the  truth,"  Denys  said,  and  in  spite  of  the  dark  past  and 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  that  lay  before  them,  both 
smiled. 

It  was  well  indeed  for  them  that  their  whispered  confer- 
ence was  not  overheard — well  too  that  those  who  saw  them 
start  out  the  next  day  were  confirmed  in  the  belief  that 
Louise  went  most  reluctantly. 

The  emigrant  train  was  composed  of  fifteen  wagons, 
representing  as  many  families.  The  men  were  most  of 
them  young,  and,  like  Denys,  recently  married.  Polyga- 
mous families  could  not  be  colonized  in  San  Bernardino. 
The  American  flag  yet  waved  over  the  whole  of  the  vast 
Coast  region  which  Brigham  Young  claimed  as  a  jxirtion 
of  his  dominions,  and  the  day  concerning  which  he  uttered 
so  many  prophecies — the  day  when  all  human  governments 
should  fall  before  the  power  he  represented — had  not  yet 
dawned.  The  members  of  the  company  were  all  supposed 
to  be  sound  in  the  faith  they  professed,  and  in  every  way 
fitted  for  their  responsible  mission.  They  had  been  select- 
ed by  the  Prophet  himself  with  especial  care,  and  yet  at 
least  three  of  the  men  besides  Denys  intended  that  their  de- 
parture from  Utah  should  be  a  final  one,  and  it  happened 
eventually  that  not  one  of  the  fifteen  families  ever  returned 
to  the  valley. 

The  emigrants  were  well  provided  with  necessaries  for 
their  journey,  not  because  the  Church  authorities  had  con- 
cerned themselves  about  making  such  provision,  but  be- 
cause they  had  sufficient  means  of  their  own  to  supply  them 
with  ordinary  comforts.  The  first  stage  of  their  route  lay 
through  the  settlements  that  had  been  made,  at  irregular 


THE  BLISTERING  DESERT.  129 

distances,  all  the  way  from  Salt  Lake  to  the  southern  line 
of  the  Territory.  This  portion  of  the  journey  was  not 
marked  by  any  incidents  worthy  of  notice,  nor  attended  by 
any  hardships,  but  after  crossing  the  divide  south-west  of 
Mountain  Meadows,  the  character  of  the  country  changed 
entirely.  It  was  near  the  middle  of  September  when  the 
company  encamped  at  Resting  Springs— the  last  point  at 
which  pure  water  is  found  before  entering  the  desert. 
They  remained  in  camp  several  days  to  rest  and  recruit,  for 
they  knew  that  for  the  next  hundred  and  fifty  miles  their 
powers  of  endurance  would  be  taxed  to  the  utmost. 

At  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  15th  of  September, 
the  company  broke  camp,  and  were  on  their  way  before 
the  first  signs  of  day  appeared  in  the  east.  It  was  neces- 
sary that  they  should  make  twenty-five  miles  or  more  be- 
fore sunset,  in  order  to  reach  the  next  watering-place — the 
Amagos,  a  stream  so  strongly  impregnated  with  alkali 
that  it  has  been  named  the  Poison  River  by  the  unfortunate 
travelers  who  have  tasted  its  waters. 

The  wheels  of  the  loaded  wagons  dragged  heavily.  The 
mules  sank  to  the  fetlocks  at  every  step,  and  the  men  who 
walked  beside  the  teams  waded  ankle  deep  in  the  loose, 
shifting  sand.  As  the  day  advanced,  the  sun  beat  down 
upon  them  with  a  pitiless  glare,  and  not  a  breath  of 
air  stirred  upon  the  face  of  the  desert. 

On  every  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  stretched  an 
unbroken  expanse  of  sand,  gray  as  ashes.  Not  even  a 
rock  broke  the  monotonous  view  ;  not  a  hillock  interposed 
between  them  and  the  farthest  verge  of  the  horizon  where 
sand  and  sky  met. 

The  sun  sank  at  night  in  the  gray  waste  ;  the  stars  came 
out  overhead,  and  still  the  train  toiled  on.  At  length,  just 
as  the  moon  rose  to  light  their  way,  the  narrow  channel  of 
the  Amagos  came  in  view. 


13©  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

The  shallow  waters  of  the  sluggish  stream  looked  clear 
and  bright  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  foremost  drivers 
began-  to  urge  their  teams  toward  it. 

"Stop,"  cried  Calder,  the  captain  of  the  company. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  these  waters  will  kill  every  animal 
in  the  train  ?  Halt  where  you  are.  There  is  a  spring  a 
little  to  the  right  that  is  safe." 

The  caution  came  too  late.  The  loose  cattle  belonging 
to  the  train,  tortured  by  thirst,  had  pressed  forward  to  the 
brink  and  were  already  drinking. 

The  teams  attached  to  the  wagons  were  halted  in  obedi- 
ence to  orders,  and  a  search  was  made  for  the  spring, 
which,  when  found,  proved  to  be  brackish,  but  not  unwhole- 
some ;  still,  by  Captain  Calder's  advice  the  company  used 
for  themselves  only  the  water  which  they  had  brought  in 
kegs  from  Resting  Springs. 

At  starting,  few  of  the  emigrants  had  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  hardships  and  perils  of  the  journey,  but  a  single 
day's  experience  on  the  desert  had  given  rise  to  grave 
anxieties  even  in  the  minds  of  those  most  inured  to  the  diffi- 
culties of  overland  emigration. 

Captain  Calder  had  for  his  guidance  a  rude  map,  drawn 
by  one  who  had  been  over  the  route  before,  and  a  few  notes 
relating  to  the  points  at  which  water  might  be  found  ;  but 
the  sandy  expanse  over  which  they  traveled  afforded  no 
landmarks  whatever,  and  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  miss  the 
sunken  springs  on  which  they  depended.  Their  water- 
casks,  which  had  been  filled  before  entering  the  desert, 
held  what  was  thought  to  be  a  sufficient  supply  for  a  four 
days'  journey.  This  included  a  scant  allowance  for  the 
teams,  and  a  very  small  reserve  to  be  used  in  case  of  de- 
lays, but  a  single  day's  trial  convinced  them  that  there  had 
been  a  mistake  in  their  estimates. 

The  heat,  the  fatigue,  and  aboye  all  the  extreme  dryness 


THE  BLISTERING  DESERT.  131 

of  the  atmosphere,  aggravated  thirst  in  man  and  beast,  and 
it  required  all  of  Captain  Calder's  authority,  in  addition  to 
the  combined  good  sense  of  the  company,  to  prevent  drink- 
ing largely  in  excess  of  the  day's  allowance. 

The  second  night  on  the  desert  was  spent  at  Salt  Springs. 
The  teams  already  began  to  show  signs  of  exhaustion,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  drive  carefully,  for  their  losses  from  the 
effects  of  the  poisonous  waters  of  the  Amagos  had  reduced 
their  stock  so  that  there  were  no  relays. 

The  intensely  salt  waters  of  the  springs  would  have  been 
quite  as  fatal  as  those  of  the  Poison  River,  if  drank,  and  at 
this  camping-ground  the  teams  had  to  be  supplied  from  the 
rapidly-diminishing  contents  of  the  casks.  The  third  and 
fourth  days'  journey  brought  no  changes,  except  that  their 
progress  was  slower,  and  the  allowance  of  water  dealt  out 
more  scanty. 

It  was  confidently  expected  that  the  train  would  reach 
Bitter  Springs  on  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  but  when 
the  sun  set  on  the  wide  waste  of  sand  there  was  not  the 
faintest  sign  of  water  in  sight. 

"We  have  traveled  very  slowly,"  Captain  Calder  said, 
"  and  it  would  not  surprise  me  at  all  to  find  out  that  we 
have  made  at  least  ten  miles  less  than  we  calculated  upon 
in  the  last  two  days.  The  springs  are  only  a  little  way 
ahead — that  is  certain — and  it  seems  equally  certain  that 
we  must  reach  them  to-night  if  we  expect  to  save  our 
animals." 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  the  nearly  worn-out  teams 
were  urged  forward  for  three  hours  longer,  but  when  the 
moon  rose,  nothing  was  visible  except  the  same  endless 
stretches  of  barren  sand  that  daylight  showed.  Their  ani- 
mals could  be  driven  no  farther,  and  with  the  gloomiest 
forebodings  they  made  their  camp  for  the  night. 

All  the  lives  in  the  company  might  now  depend  upon  the 


132  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

teams  ;  so  the  mules  and  oxen  again  received  their  share 
of  the  little  water  left  in  the  casks,  and  at  daybreak  the 
wagons  were  lightened  by  throwing  out  the  most  cumbrous 
articles,  and  the  train  again  put  in  motion. 

On  and  on  through  the  blistering  sands  they  toiled  till 
noon,  and  still  no  water  !  The  fear  which  had  been  gain- 
ing ground  since  morning  now  amounted  to  a  certainty. 
They  had  lost  their  way.  Whether  the  springs  lay  to  the 
right  or  the  le^  of  the  route  they  had  passed  over,  it  was 
impossible  to  tell.  A  council  was  called  to  determine 
whether  it  was  wiser  to  turn  back  and  make  an  effort  to 
find  them,  or  to  push  ahead  to  the  sink  of  the  Mohave  ;  and, 
in  view  of  the  slight  chances  of  coming  upon  the  springs  if 
the  search  was  made,  the  latter  course  was  decided  upon. 

There  was  no  accurate  scale  of  distances  on  Calder's 
map,  but  as  nearly  as  could  be  ascertained  they  had  at 
least  sixty  miles  to  travel.  The  prospect  was  disheartening 
enough,  and  those  who  had  joined  the  expedition  only  be- 
cause they  dared  not  disobey  "  counsel"  were  loud  in  their 
complaints,  and  quick  to  blame  Captain  Calder  as  being, 
in  part,  the  cause  of  their  misfortunes.  On  the  other  hand, 
those  who  looked  upon  the  end  of  their  journey  as  the  door 
of  escape  from  priestly  tyranny,  were  courageous  and 
calm,  though  by  no  means  hopeful. 

Captain  Calder  was  not  one  of  these.  He  had  been  put 
in  charge  of  the  company  by  a  power  whose  decrees  he  did 
not  venture  to  question,  and  his  connection  with  Mormon- 
ism  was  of  such  a  nature  that  he  had  no  plans  of  escape, 
but  he  was  the  very  man  for  the  trying  position  he  filled 
— brave,  determined,  enduring,  fertile  in  expedients,  and 
above  all,  patient  with  the  murmuring,  despairing  com- 
pany,  who  were  ready  to  say  with  those  of  old, 

"  Why  hast  thou  brought  us  into  this  wilderness  to  kill 
us  with  thirst  ?" 


THE  BLISTERING  DESERT  133 

Another  day,  and  yet  another,  and  still  only  the  brassy 
heavens  above  and  the  burning  sands  below.  On  the  even- 
ing ot  the  sixth  day  the  last  drop  of  water  was  served  out. 
Everything  that  could  be  left  had  been  thrown  out  ot  the 
wagons,  and  even  the  weakest  of  the  women  walked  by 
turns  ;  but  in  spite  of  all  that  was  done  to  save  them  the 
teams  began  to  drop  by  the  way. 

The  tortures  of  thirst  in  an  open  boat  at  sea  could  not 
begin  to  compare  with  the  sufferings  of  those  whose  last 
remnant  of  strength  was  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  struggle 
through  the  deep,  hot  sand  on  foot,  without  a  drop  of  water 
to  moisten  their  parched  tongues. 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day  two  men  of  the  com- 
pany and  one  woman  were  found  to  be  unable  to  stand  on 
their  feet.  In  answer  to  their  half-despairing,  half-sullen 
request  that  the  company  would  go  on  and  leave  them.  Cap- 
tain Calder  had  them  put  in  the  wagons  that  could  best 
bear  the  added  load,  but  when  the  train  made  the  next  halt 
their  sufferings  were  ended. 

A  shallow  grave  in  the  sand  received  their  bodies,  and 
the  survivors  looked  in  each  other's  faces,  mutely  asking, 

"  Who  will  be  the  next  ?" 

"My  poor  child,"  Denys  whispered  to  Louise,  "I 
thought  to  save  you  ;  but  I  have  only  brought  you  into  the 
desert  to  die." 

Louise's  dark  eyes  were  unnaturally  large  and  bright, 
but  she  raised  them  to  his  face  with  a  steadfast  look. 

"  Better,  far  better,  to  die  here  than  live  there"  she 
answered. 

When  the  train  again  attempted  to  move,  not  more  than 
half  of  the  teams  were  able  to  drag  the  wagons,  and  the 
least  courageous  of  the  company  broke  out  afresh  into 
lamentations,  but  Calder  silenced  them  with  a  gesture. 

"  Look  !"  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  their 


134         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

attention.  "  Yonder  are  the  mountains — I  am  certain  of  H, 
and  the  river  is  a  long  way  this  side  of  them." 

"  What  of  that  ?"  was  the  despairing  answer.  "  Wc 
can  never  reach  it." 

"  Don't  give  up  now,"  and  the  resolute  tone  in  which  he 
spoke  was  not  without  its  effect  ;  "  I  will  tell  you  what  we 
will  do.  The  river  is  not  now  more  than  ten  miles  from 
us.  I  have  often  heard  that  animals  traveling  over  the 
desert  can  scent  water  that  distance.  We  will  set  ours 
free,  and  the  strongest  men  among  us  will  follow  them, 
and,  believe  me,  before  many  hours  we  shall  be  back  with 
water — plenty  of  it." 

"  We  may  as  well  try  it,"  one  of  the  men  answered. 

"  When  all's  done,  we  can  but  die  at  the  worst,  and  we 
are  certain  to  die  if  we  stop  here  another  night." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Denys  ;  "and  I  believe  with  the 
Captain  that  the  animals  will  be  our  best  guides.  How 
many  are  able  to  follow  them  ?" 

Half  a  dozen  men  stepped  forward  at  the  summons.  The 
rest  had  sunk  upon  the  ground  in  the  apathy  of  despair. 
Calder  and  Denys  at  once  began  the  work  of  setting  the 
oxen  and  mules  free.  The  poor  creatures  staggered  feebly 
forward,  with  their  parched  tongues  hanging  from  their 
mouths.  The  men  kept  behind,  but  without  making  any 
attempt  to  drive  them.  When  they  had  gone  about  half  a 
mile  in  this  manner,  the  foremost  mule  raised  his  head, 
snuffed  the  air  eagerly,  and  started  off  in  a  straight  line, 
followed  by  the  others,  who,  like  him,  quickened  their  pace. 
The  men  kept  a  few  yards  behind,  and  were  watched  by 
anxious  eyes,  that  were  strained  to  keep  them  in  sight  until 
the  moving  figures  merged  into  a  black  line,  then  a  speck, 
a  point,  and  they  were  gone. 

How  slowly  the  hours  of  watching  dragged  past  !  The 
thirst  that  grew  each  minute  more  intolerable  seemed  to 


THE  BLISTERING  DESERT.  135 

parch  the  whole  frame.  Some  were  sunk  in  a  stupor, 
happily  unconscious  of  their  sufferings  or  of  the  lapse  of 
time  ;  but  to  those  who  retained  their  faculties  the  sun 
appeared  to  stand  still  in  the  heavens. 

Still  they  waited  and  watched,  cheating  themselves  at 
times  with  the  belief  that  they  saw  a  moving  speck  in  the 
dim  distance,  until  at  length  the  tardy  sun  dropped  below 
the  horizon,  and  the  far-off  mountains,  the  desert,  every- 
thing, faded  into  the  dull  gray  of  twilight.  Then  the  dark- 
ness swallowed  up  the  landscape,  and  the  awful  stillness  of 
a  night  in  the  desert  settled  down  upon  them. 

"  Wherever  they  are  now,"  said  one  of  the  women, 
"  they  must  stop  until  the  moon  rises." 

"  No,"  answered  Louise,  who  still  had  strength  enough 
left  to  encourage  the  others,  "  Captain  Calder  has  his  com- 
pass, and  the  stars  are  shining.  They  will  not  wait  a 
minute  for  the  moon." 

The  event  proved  that  she  was  right,  for  the  moon  was 
just  beginning  to  show  its  upper  rim  above  the  horizon 
when  the  night  air  bore  to  their  ears  a  faint  sound — the 
distant  hail  of  those  for  whom  they  watched. 

They  replied  with  the  loudest  shout  which  their  parched 
throats  could  utter,  and  then  the  women  embraced  each 
other  and  thanked  God,  while  the  men  staggered  to  their 
feet  and  pressed  forward  toward  their  returning  comrades. 
There  were  only  five — Calder,  Denys,  and  three  others — 
among  them  a  young  man  whose  wife  had  begged  piteously 
that  he  would  not  leave  her. 

It  was  almost  like  a  resurrection  from  the  dead  when  the 
precious  drops  that  had  been  carried  so  far  moistened  the 
black  lips  and  burning  throats  of  the  sufferers,  and  the 
good  news  that  was  brought  with  the  water  infused  hope 
and  courage  into  souls  that  an  hour  ago  were  sunk  in  the 
lethargy  of  despair. 


136         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

They  had  found  the  Mohave.  The  men  they  had  left  be- 
hind with  the  animals  were  camped  where  there  was  not 
only  an  abundance  of  pure,  sweet  water,  but  plenty  of 
grass,  and  beyond  the  river  the  country  was  green  and 
fresh.     They  were  out  of  the  desert. 

What  a  night  of  thanksgiving  that  was  !  The  sufferings 
of  the  past  few  days  were  almost  forgotten  in  the  joyous 
certainty  that  in  the  morning  they  would  leave  the  desert 
behind  them,  and  when,  a  few  hours  later,  the  three  men 
who  had  been  left  on  the  river  bank  returned  with  their 
teams,  there  was  an  eager  bustle  throughout  the  camp,  an 
activity  that  the  night  before  would  have  seemed  utterly 
impossible,  as  every  one  aided  or  attempted  to  aid  in  the 
preparation  for  starting. 

Before  noon  all  the  company  were  resting  in  the  shade 
of  the  timber  that  fringed  the  banks  of  the  Mohave.  No, 
not  all,  for  three  of  their  number  rested  under  the  sands  of 
the  desert  ;  but  even  the  sincere  sympathy  that  was  felt  for 
those  who  were  bereaved  could  not  dampen  the  joy  of  the 
survivors  in  the  first  hour  of  their  deliverance. 

After  a  week's  rest  in  the  valley  of  the  Mohave,  the 
march  to  the  coast  was  resumed,  and  a  little  past  the  mid- 
dle of  October  they  entered  San  Bernardino. 

As  we  have  previously  intimated,  Brigham  Young 
showed  his  sagacity  in  the  choice  of  men  for  this  colony, 
by  fixing  upon  those  who  had  means  of  their  own. 
So  it  had  happened  that  these  settlers  had  money 
enough  to  establish  themselves  comfortably  on  the  lands 
near  the  town  ;  but  Denys  and  the  three  others  who 
had  decided  to  cut  loose  from  the  community  announced 
that  they  wished  to  look  around  a  little  before  deciding 
upon  a  location,  and  they  "  looked  around"  to  such  pur- 
pose that  within  three  weeks  they  had  taken  passage  at  San 
Pedro  on  a  steamer  bound  for  San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  CALIFORNIA  GULCH, 

The  autumn  of  1852  lingered  long  in  the  northern  val- 
leys of  California,  as  if  to  give  the  busy  miners  ample  time 
to  prepare  for  winter.  Late  comers  to  Yreka  Flat  rejoiced 
in  the  mild  October  weather,  and  prospecting  was  pushed 
vigorously  along  every  creek  and  gulch  within  the  limits  of 
what  is  now  known  as  Siskiyou  County. 

The  La  Tour  brothers,  who  had  steadily  declined  buying 
the  various  "  rich  claims"  offered  them,  joined  this  army 
oi  prospectors  in  company  with  Lucky  Jim,  whose  over- 
flowing cheerfulness  and  unflagging  courage  were  not  his 
only  good  qualities  :  Jim  had  never  made  anything  for 
himself,  but  he  had  more  than  once  helped  others  to  make 
something.  He  had  a  keen  eye  for  "  indications,"  and  if 
he  had  been  so  minded  might  have  told  as  many  stories 
of  discoveries  as  the  redoubtable  Columbus  ;  but  he  had  a 
constitutional  antipathy  to  work,  and  if  by  any  chance  a 
few  hundred  dollars  came  into  his  hands,  the  money  was 
sure  to  vanish  like  the  dew. 

Guided  by  him,  the  La  Tours  started  out  toward 
Shasta  Butte,  a  solitary  peak  rising  in  the  form  of  a  sugar- 
loaf  to  the  height  of  fourteen  thousand  feet,  with  a  crown 
of  eternal  snow.  From  this  proud  elevation  the  mountain 
looks  down  upon  the  timbered  spurs  that  guard  the  ap- 
proaches to  it,  and  the  bristling  tops  of  the  firs  and  cedars 
that  fill  the  cafions. 

Here  nature  showed  an  untamed  front.  No  human 
sound  broke  the  silence.     The  hand  of  man  had  left  no  im- 


138         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

press  upon  the  face  of  the  wilderness.  To  the  little  party 
of  three,  who  were  the  first  to  invade  these  solitudes,  the 
gloom  of  the  forest  in  which  they  camped  for  the  night 
was  most  oppressive,  but  when  sunrise  dispelled  the  shad- 
ows of  the  valley,  and  the  lofty  trees  whose  branches 
shut  out  the  sky  grew  vpcal  with  the  songs  of  birds,  their 
courage  rose,  and  they  felt  themselves  equal  to  an  encoun- 
ter with  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountain. 

Their  camp  was  upon  one  of  the  numerous  creeks  which 
are  fed  in  summer  by  the  melting  snows  of  the  peak,  and 
whose  channels  even  in  winter  contain  sufficient  water  for 
mining  purposes. 

Somewhere  along  this  creek  it  might  be  that  they  should 
find  the  El  Dorado  they  were  seekmg,  and  immediately 
after  breakfast  they  started  out  nn  foot  to  explore  the  gulch 
through  which  it  flowed,  leaving  their  horses  picketed 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  embers  of  their  fire.  Each  man 
carried  his  gun  ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  luggage,  the 
chief  items  of  which  were  the  pick,  shovel,  and  prospect- 
pan,  was  impartially  distributed.  Lucky  Jim  had  given 
"the  boys"  various  lessons  while  on  their  journey,  re- 
garding the  signs  they  were  to  look  for,  and  this  morning 
he  repeated  and  emphasized  his  instructions  as  they  walked 
along. 

"  You  see  that  black  sand, "  he  remarked  ;  "  well,  though 
that  is  not  always  an  indication  of  gold,  it's  a  pretty  sure 
thing,  and  if  you  don't  find  it  you  may  as  well  try  another 
gulch.  Then  these  boulders — they're  quartz,  and  maybe 
there's  no  gold  in  them  ;  but  in  this  country,  where  you 
don't  find  quartz  you  won't  find  gold.  I  call  the  quartz 
and  the  sand  together  good  indications  ;  but  for  a  sure 
thing  you  want  something  like  this,"  stooping  as  he  spoke 
to  pick  up  a  rough  fragment  of  rock  which  his  experienced 
eye  at  once  perceived  to  be  "  rich." 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  139 

The  brothers  pressed  closer  to  look  at  the  bit  of  quartz 
that  lay  in  his  open  palm.  It  needed  no  magnifying-glass 
to  show  the  yellow  specks  in  its  broken  surface. 

"You  see,  boys,"  he  continued,  "this  hasn't  traveled 
far,  otherwise  its  edges  would  be  rounded,  and  its  sides 
Worn  smooth.  The  ledge  must  be  very  near,  and  we  will 
move  on  a  few  rods  until  we  find  a  favorable  place  for  sink, 
ing  a  shaft,  and  then  get  to  work. ' ' 

A  little  more  than  two  hundred  yards  up  the  creek  the 
gulch  forked,  and  another  stream  came  in  from  the  left. 

"  This  is  the  place  to  stop,"  Jim  said,  indicating  a  little 
flat  below  the  junction  of  the  streams.  "  The  ledge  may 
be  in  either  gulch,  but  we  are  quite  safe  in  sinking  a  shaft 
here." 

It  was  still  early  in  the  morning,  and  Jim,  announcing 
that  he  would  "  take  the  first  shift,"  seized  the  pick  and 
went  to  work  with  a  will.  Like  many  other  people  who 
dislike  long  tasks,  he  could  put  in  some  very  vigorous 
strokes  at  the  beginning,  and  the  brothers,  who  had  done 
more  hard  work  during  their  four  years  in  Oregon  than  he 
had  in  his  lifetime,  looked  on  and  admired  the  rapidity 
and  precision  of  his  movements,  as  he  broke  the  ground 
and  tossed  out  the  gravel.  After  about  half  an  hour's 
work  he  stopped,  posed  himself  gracefully,  with  the  han- 
dle of  his  shovel  as  a  support,  and  began  to  descant  on  the 
various  theories  of  placer-mining.  Francis  allowed  him 
to  talk  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  claimed  the  pick  and 
shovel,  and  applied  himself  so  diligently  to  increasing  the 
depth  of  the  shaft  that  in  less  than  an  hour  his  pick  struck 
the  bed-rock. 

Jim,  who  had  been  watching  as  well  as  talking,  now 
filled  the  prospect-pan  with  some  of  the  last  dirt  taken  out 
of  the  shaft,  and  proceeded  to  wash  it. 

The  operation  of  "panning,"  though  simple  enough  in 


140         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

theory,  requires  considerable  skill  in  practice.  The  pros- 
pect-pan, which  is  much  the  shape  of  an  ordinary  milk- 
pan,  except  that  it  flares  more  toward  the  top,  being  fairly 
filled  with  the  dirt,  is  held  under  the  surface  of  the  stream, 
shaken  from  side  to  side,  and  every  few  moments  jerked 
up  and  down  in  such  a  manner  as  to  cause  an  ebullition 
of  the  water,  when  the  dirt  and  lighter  gravel  are  washed 
out,  while  the  pan  is  tipped  a  little  to  one  side  and  shaken 
carefully  to  get  rid  of  the  black  sand. 

A  miner  who  understands  his  business  will  go  through 
the  whole  operation  in  five  minutes,  and  have  the  precious 
dust  left  clean  and  shining  in  the  bottom  of  the  pan.  At 
the  expiration  of  that  time  Jim  gave  a  triumphant  shout. 

"  We've  got  her,  boys  !  Here  she  is  !  Sing  Hail  Co- 
lumbia ;'*  and  with  a  few  stronger  expressions,  that  would 
not  look  well  in  print,  he  exhibited  the  result  of  his  work. 

*'  Half  an  ounce  to  the  pan  !  The  boys  will  say  that  is 
one  of  Christopher's  strikes,  but  all  the  same  we've  got  it." 

The  glittering  bait,  which,  once  seen,  never  fails  to  lure 
the  beholder  onward  through  months  and  years  of  search 
in  the  hope  of  finding  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  earth,  lay 
before  their  eyes — shining  particles  of  coarse  gold,  like 
grains  of  sand,  and  in  the  mass  a  nugget  the  size  of  a  pea. 

The  brothers  felt  a  strange  thrill,  a  quickening  of  the 
pulses,  a  sudden  eagerness  and  elation.  The  gold  fever 
had  not  impelled  them  to  come,  but  it  seized  upon  them 
now,  with  this  evidence  of  the  buried  wealth  of  the  moun- 
tains before  their  sight. 

Lucky  Jim,  to  whom  the  experience  was  not  altogether 
new,  was  the  first  to  come  down  to  practical  details,  and 
in  a  few  words  he  explained  to  the  others  what  must  be 
done  in  order  to  secure  the  benefits  of  the  discovery  to 
themselves.  In  conformity  with  his  instructions,  four 
claims,  each  two  hundred  feet  long,  were  staked  out,  one 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  Ml 

for  discovery  and  three  pre-emption  claims,  and  a  notice 
was  posted  beside  the  shaft. 

"  We  could  organize  a  district  by  ourselves,"  he  said, 
"  for  there's  three  of  us,  and  that  meets  the  requirements 
of  the  law  ;  but  the  boys  down  on  the  Flat  have  always 
stood  by  me,  and  I'd  like  to  give  them  a  show.  One  of  us 
will  have  to  go  back  to  the  camp  to-morrow  anyway,  to 
get  a  whip-saw  and  a  few  other  tools,  and  the  strike  will 
leak  out.  What  do  you  say,  boys  .-'  Are  you  willing  that 
the  others  should  come  in  ?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Francis.  "The  gulch  is  not  ours. 
They  made  us  welcome  when  we  reached  their  camp,  and 
I  have  no  wish  to  keep  out  anybody  who  wants  to 
come." 

This  sentiment  called  forth  a  hearty  response  from  Jim, 
embellished  with  various  emphatic  expressions  which  we 
forbear  to  quote.  He  now  felt  that  they  had  done  nearly 
enough  for  one  day,  but  the  brothers  were  of  a  different 
opinion,  and  both  of  them  worked  so  energetically  that  be- 
fore night  the  bed-rock  was  stripped  for  a  distance  of  five 
feet  above  and  below  the  shaft,  and  the  prospect-pan  was 
filled  and  passed  to  Jim  a  score  of  times. 

As  may  be  supposed,  none  of  the  dirt  "  panned  out" 
quite  equal  to  the  first  sample,  but  at  night,  when  Jim  pro- 
duced the  scales  he  carried  and  weighed  out  the  gold,  the 
result  of  their  first  day's  work  amounted  to  a  little  over 
ninety-seven  dollars. 

"  Now,  that's  what  I  call  fair  wages,"  he  said,  surveying 
the  "  pile"  complacently.  "What  shall  we  do  with  it, 
boys  ?" 

"  Put  it  in  the  company's  purse,"  said  Charles. 

"Yes,"  added  Francis,  "that  purse  you  showed  us 
yesterday.  It  will  answer  just  as  weU  ?is  a  banking-housq 
for  the  present." 


142         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Jim  accordingly  produced  from  one  of  his  numerous 
pockets  a  stout  buckskin  bag  about  sixteen  inches  long. 

"  This  will  hold  five  thousand  dollars  in  dust,"  he  said, 
"  and  after  it  is  filled  we  can  put  the  balance  in  yeast-f>ow- 
der  cans  and  cache  it  under  our  fireplace." 

In  the  morning  their  camp,  which  had  been  moved  to  the 
vicinity  of  the  mine,  was  the  scene  of  unusual  activity,  and 
soon  after  sunrise  Jim  started  for  the  Flat,  taking  with  him 
the  two  pack-mules  to  bring  back  supplies. 

"We  may  as  well  lay  in  pretty  much  everything  we 
want  for  the  winter,"  he  remarked,  "  for  we  are  going  to 
have  work  enough  to  keep  us  busy,  and  there  won't  be 
many  days  to  spare  for  trips  to  the  Flat  or  anywhere  else." 

Jim  sfKjke  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  as  though  hard  work 
was  the  staple  of  his  life,  and  for  the  moment  he  really  de- 
luded himself  with  the  idea  that  he  was  going  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf  and  "  strike  his  best  licks"  on  the  Star  of  the 
West — for  by  this  poetical  appellation  the  claim  was  to  be 
known  henceforth. 

He  carried  with  him,  in  addition  to  the  gold  panned  out 
the  day  before,  fifty  dollars  advanced  by  the  brothers  to 
increase  the  funds  of  the  company  to  an  amount  sufficient 
to  purchase  the  necessary  tools  and  supplies.  He  was 
likewise  the  bearer  of  a  message  to  the  Mormon  boys,  who 
were  supposed  by  this  time  to  have  returned  from  Marys- 
\'ille.  His  last  words  on  taking  leave  of  his  comrades 
were, 

"  I  don't  mean  to  blow  about  this  strike  of  ours,  but  if 
the  boys  find  out  anything  for  themselves,  I  shall  take  it 
that  you  will  make  anybody  welcome  that  happens  to  fol- 
low the  trail." 

During  the  day  the  brothers  occupied  themselves,  as 
their  more  experienced  partner  had  advised,  in  cutting 
down  a  beautiful  sugar-pine  that  grew  near  their  shaft. 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  143 

and  dividing  its  straight,  smooth  trunk  into  logs  twelve  feet 
in  length.  These  logs  were  to  furnish  lumber  for  the 
sluice-boxes  that  they  proposed  to  construct. 

As  this  lumber  must  be  whip-sawed,  it  was  necessary 
also  to  prepare  a  pit,  and  here  their  own  knowledge  of 
wood-craft  proved  quite  as  serviceable  as  Jim's  instructions. 

Two  saplings  about  eight  inches  through,  and  growing 
within  three  yards  of  the  side  of  the  hill,  were  selected  for 
the  posts  of  the  pit.  These  were  cut  off  six  feet  from  the 
ground,  and  one  end  of  the  logs,  which  were  to  be  the  sides 
of  the  frame,  rested  on  the  stumps,  while  the  other  end  was 
bedded  in  the  hill.  A  couple  of  transverse  logs  and  the 
two  short,  movable  sticks  of  timber  called  blocks,  com- 
pleted the  pit,  and  then  the  miners  had  as  good  a  substi- 
tute for  a  saw-mill  as  Northern  California  could  furnish  at 
that  period  ;  or,  at  least,  they  would  have  when  their  whip- 
saw  should  arrive. 

All  this  preparatory  work  took  time,  and  the  sun  set  on 
the  first  day  of  Jim's  absence  without  a  single  shovelful  of 
dirt  having  been  disturbed  in  the  vicinity  of  the  shaft ;  but 
on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  they  returned  to  the 
more  fascinating  employment  of  stripping  the  bed-rock 
and  washing  out  the  gold. 

These  men  of  eight-and-twenty  were  still  young  enough 
in  heart  to  feel  a  boyish  delight  in  being  able  to-day  to 
manipulate  the  prospect-pan  almost  as  skilfully  as  their  in- 
structor, and  the  gold  which  they  deposited  in  the  safe 
depths  of  a  tin  can  glistened  more  brightly  in  their  eyes 
because  they  had  washed  it  out  themselves. 

Jim  had  told  them  that  he  should  start  out  on  his  return 
trip  long  before  daylight,  and  as  the  distance  from  Yreka 
Flat  was  only  twenty  miles,  they  began  to  look  for  him  by 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  ;  but  the  day  wore  away  without 
bringing  any  signs  of  him  until  near  sunset.      Then  a 


144         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

cheerful  hail  was  borne  up  the  gulch,  and  as  they  an- 
swered it  they  started  down  "  to  meet  the  supply  train," 
as  Charles  observed.  They  had  not  gone  many  rods  be- 
fore they  caught  sight,  through  the  trees,  of  the  white 
horse  that  Jim  rode,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  two  pack- 
mules  likewise  emerged  from  the  shadows. 

Jim  looked  happy,  but  withal  a  little  secretive,  as  though 
he  knew  something  that  was  almost  too  good  to  tell.  In 
answer  to  their  questions,  he  assured  them  he  had  had  tip- 
top luck,  but  he  did  not  get  down  to  particulars  until  the 
mules  were  relieved  of  their  packs,  and  he  himself  seated 
by  the  fire  with  a  great  mug  of  smoking  coffee  in  his  right 
hand. 

"  You  see,"  he  began,  "  I  didn't  talk  much  when  I  got 
to  the  camp,  but  just  went  around  quietly  buying  up  the 
supplies.  I  paid  out  your  money  first,  but  when  it  came  to 
weighing  out  the  dust,  the  boys  began  to  ask  questions.  I 
told  them  we'd  been  at  work  for  a  while  in  the  mountains, 
and  had  cleaned  up  a  few  ounces,  but  that  didn't  seem  to 
satisfy  them.  I  started  out  before  daylight,  as  I  told  you  I 
should,  but  this  horse  of  mine  showed  the  way  as  plain  as 
that  pillar  of  fire  they  used  to  tell  about  in  Sunday-school 
when  I  was  a  youngster,  and  by  sunrise  I  could  see  a 
black  line  stretching  away  behind  me  toward  the  Flat — 
somewhere  about  a  mile  long,  I  should  say.  I  didn't  wait 
for  anybody  to  overtake  me  and  ask  more  questions,  but 
by  the  time  I  reached  the  timber  they  had  got  almost 
within  hailing  distance,  and — hark  !     What  is  that  ?' ' 

All  three  listened  intently  as  the  night  wind  bore  a  faint 
sound  to  their  ears — a  sound  that  grew  more  distinct  and 
increased  in  volume,  until  they  recognized  the  "  0-o-oh 
J-o,"  the  well-known  hail  of  "  the  Coast, "  uttered  by  a  score 
of  throats.  They  answered  it  in  concert,  and  the  sound 
was  taken  up  and  repeated,  this  time  singly,  until,  as  they 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  HS 

conjectured,  it  had  passed  all  the  way  down  the  gulch  to 
the  stragglers  just  entering  the  timber. 

"Here  are  plenty  of  pine-knots,"  said  Francis.  "Let 
us  make  a  blaze  that  they  can  see  ;"   and 

"  On  hospitable  thoughts  intent," 

the  original  pioneers  of  the  gulch  piled  the  fire  with  the 
resinous  material  at  hand,  until  a  ruddy  column  of  flame 
shot  upward  to  the  branches  of  the  tall  trees,  making  fan- 
tastic lights  among  their  dark  shadows. 

In  twenty  minutes  more  the  head  of  the  advancing  col- 
umn halted  and  dismounted  at  their  camp. 

"  Right  smart  blaze,  this  yer  is,"  observed  a  tall,  lank, 
grizzled  individual,  with  a  free  and  easy  air  of  good  comrade- 
ship, "  an'  it  was  a  cute  idee  of  yourn  to  light  it.  We 
mought  a'  me-yandered  round  in  this  pesky  timber  all 
night  an'  not  found  yer,  for  the  rocks  mixes  up  sounds  so's 
ter  lead  a  feller  offen  the  trail  every  time." 

"  Are  the  others  near  enough  to  see  the  light  ?"  inquired 
Francis. 

"  Some  on  'em  is,  an'  the  balance  *11  camp  in  the  edge 
of  the  timber  till  mornin',  I  reckon." 

"  How  many  are  there  ?"  asked  Charles. 

"  Well,  now,  I  couldn't  rightly  say.  There  was  fifteen 
or  twenty  jest  behind  me  an'  Dick,  but  I  looked  back  when 
we  was  on  the  last  rise  of  ground  outside  the  timber,  an'  it 
'peared  to  me  ez  ef  there  was  a  percession  that  stretched 
pooty  much  all  the  way  from  Yreka  to  the  foot-hills." 

Here  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  fresh  arrivals. 
The  new-comers  scattered  around  among  the  trees,  lighted 
other  fires,  and  set  about  cooking  supper.  Lucky  Jim  did 
the  honors  of  the  camp  in  a  style  peculiarly  his  own,  and 
the  brothers  treated  their  uninvited  visitors  with  frank  cor- 
diality.   Small  parties  of  ten  or  twelve  continued  to  arrive 


146         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

at  intervals  until  after  midnight,  and  when  the  camp  finally 
settled  down  to  repose,  at  least  one  hundred  men  were 
wrapped  in  their  blankets  and  disposed  in  attitudes  more 
or  less  graceful  upon  the  ground. 

With  the  first  rays  of  light  the  whole  camp  was  astir. 
Time  was  money,  when  the  man  who  was  only  five  minutes 
ahead  of  you  might  make  the  strike  that  you  ought  to  make. 

The  Missourian  who  was  first  on  the  ground  waked 
while  the  stars  were  yet  shining,  and  rose  so  softly  as  not 
to  disturb  the  slumbers  of  his  "  pardner"  who  shared  his 
blankets  ;  but  when  he  sought  out  the  lower  boundary  of 
the  "  Star  of  the  West,"  that  he  might  locate  a  claim  ad- 
jacent thereto,  behold,  a  shadowy  figure  was  stooping  over 
a  recently  driven  stake.  Somebody  was  in  the  act  of  post- 
ing a  notice  on  the  claim  that  would  have  been  his  if  he 
had  waked  half  an  hour  earlier. 

With  a  whispered  ejaculation  which  did  not  include  a 
benediction  on  the  early  riser,  he  silently  paced  off  two 
hundred  feet,  and  drove  his  own  stake.  He  had  barely 
affixed  his  notice  (written  over  night  on  the  back  of  an  old 
envelope)  when  he  heard  a  step  behind  him,  and  turning, 
faced  "  Vermont,"  a  tow-headed,  innocent-looking  youth 
from  the  Green  Mountains. 

"Jest  a  minnit  too  late,  wa'ant  I?"  he  drawled. 
"  Curus,  neaow,  ain't  it,  heaow  a  feller  kin  make  mistakes. 
I  sot  eaout  to  stake  a  claim  jest  above  the  Western  Star,  or 
whatsomever  they  call  it,  an'  when  I  got  to  the  fork  I  stud- 
ied a  minnit  abeaout  whether  I'd  better  take  the  right  or 
the  left,  an'  I  calkilate  that's  jest  where  I  missed  it.  If  I'd 
went  straight  ahead,  I'd  a'  took  the  left,  but  arter  studyin' 
on  it  I  took  the  right,  an'  blamed  ef  I  didn't  stumble  ag'inst 
a  stake  afore  I'd  went  three  steps.  I  struck  a  match,  an' 
there  was  a  notice  that  must  a'  bin  posted  last  night  by 
the  feller  they  call  the  Parson.    I  was  mad — some — but 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  147 

I  faced  abeaout  an'  took  t'other  fork,  an'  there  was  Dick 
Turpin  jest  ahead  of  me.  'Twa'n't  no  use  to  pick  a  quar- 
rel with  Dick,  an'  so  I  come  deaownthis  way  ;  but  there's 
a  notice  stuck  to  the  bottom  of  the  Western  Star,  and  here 
you  be." 

"  Thet's  so,"  said  the  Missourian  with  much  decision  ; 
"  an'  this  yer  camp  don't  go  a  cent  on  floatin'  notices. 
'Twouldn't  be  healthy,  don't  yer  see  ?  I've  bin  in  camps 
afore  now  whar  sech  things  was  done,  an'  the  feller  what  did 
it  dropped  off  mighty  suddent  ;  but,  see  yer  now,  I  hain't 
nothin'  agin  ye,  an'  I  don't  mind  yer  stakin'  out  a  claim 
ter  jine  this  yer  one  o'  mine.  Dick's  my  pardner,  ye 
know,  an'  I  was  kinder  savin'  it  for  him,  but  bein'  he's  lo- 
cated his'n  already,  ye'r  welcome  ter  this,"  and  with  the 
air  of  a  monarch  bestowing  a  principality  he  waved  his 
hand  toward  the  lower  boundary  of  his  claim. 

The  recipient  of  this  offer  made  all  haste  in  the  direction 
indicated,  for  it  was  now  beginning  to  grow  light,  and  mov- 
ing figures  appeared  here  and  there  in  the  timber,  show- 
ing that  the  camp  was  fully  awake. 

Breakfast  was  postponed  this  morning  in  favor  of  the 
more  important  business  of  staking  claims,  but  by  ten 
o'clock  most  of  the  prospectors  discovered  that  they  were 
hungry,  and  for  the  next  half  hour  they  formed  sociable 
groups  around  the  fires  that  were  kindled  to  boil  their 
coffee.  After  breakfast  Lucky  Jim  announced  that  a  mi- 
ners' meeting  would  be  held  at  eight  o'clock  p.m.  for  the 
purpose  of  organizing  the  district. 

"  Christopher  Columbus  orter  be  here  now  ter  give  the 
camp  a  name,"  suggested  one  of  the  new-comers,  and  the 
words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  a  gray  felt  hat,  with  a 
tuft  of  sandy  hair  rising  through  the  crown,  became  visible 
above  a  boulder  that  obstructed  the  view  of  the  trail  up 
the  gulch,  and  a  minute  afterward  the  great  discoverer 


148        THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

hailed  his  friends  with  the  air  of  a  man  sure  of  his  wel- 
come.    Columbus  traveled  usually  on  foot. 

"  A  hoss  is  well  enough  ef  yer  hain't  nothin'  ter  do  but 
tend  on  him,"  he  was  wont  to  remark  confidentially  ;  "  but 
a  man  like  me,  thet  hez  other  business,  orter  patronize  Foot 
an'  Walker's  line." 

It  was  by  the  above-named  line  that  Christopher  had  ar- 
rived this  morning.  His  luggage  consisted  of  a  gunny- 
sack  and  the  half  of  a  pair  of  blankets.  The  dust  of  travel 
still  clung  to  him,  but  nothing  could  diminish  the  grand- 
eur of  his  air  or  abate  his  cheerful  readiness  to  advise  and 
instruct  the  camp. 

"Pootywell  fur  a  starter,"  he  observed,  taking  in  the 
gulch,  the  stakes,  and  the  prospect-holes  at  one  compre- 
hensive glance;  "but,  boys,  yer  orter  keep  ter  the  right. 
That  thar  left-hand  fork  ain't  no  'count.  Color  of  the 
rock  shows  it.  Country  rock,  every  squar  inch.  Yer 
mought  as  well  look  fur  a  pay-streak  in  wood  ashes." 

Breakfast  was  over,  but  Columbus  borrowed  one  of  the 
still  burning  fires,  and  proceeded  to  toast  a  very  small  sec- 
tion of  a  rind  of  bacon. 

"Yer  hain't  got  a  flapjack  left  over,  hev  yer?"  he  re- 
marked incidentally  to  his  right-hand  neighbor.  "  I  wa'ant 
goin'  ter  miss  th'  strike  ef  I  never  had  a  bite  of  bread,  an' 
I  started  off  'thout  bakin'  enny." 

Half  a  loaf  was  tossed  to  him,  and  the  bacon  rind  being 
now  browned  to  the  required  crispness,  he  reached  over 
and  touched  Vermont,  who  was  gathering  up  his  cooking 
utensils. 

"  Couldn't  borrer  a  coffee-cup  of  yer,  could  I  ?"  he  in- 
quired. "  Kem  afoot  myself,  an*  hadn't  much  show  ter 
pack  things." 

The  cup  was  handed  out. 

Next,  Columbus  interviewed  Dick  Turpin  on  the  subject 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  149 

of  coffee,  and  got  the  quart  cup  filled  with  that  beverage. 
Jim  loaned  the  necessary  amount  of  sugar,  and  the  great 
discoverer  proceeded  with  his  breakfast.  By  the  time  he 
had  finished  his  meal  the  prospectors  were  scattered  up 
and  down  the  gulch,  no  one  remaining  within  speaking  dis- 
tance except  Lucky  Jim  and  his  partners,  who  were  con- 
sulting as  to  the  ways  and  means  of  getting  out  the  lumber 
for  their  sluice-boxes  in  the  shortest  possible  time. 

"  The  boys  that  travel  on  foot  will  be  along  to-day  by 
dozens,"  Jim  averred,  "  and  plenty  of  them  will  be  glad  to 
work  a  little  while  for  a  grub  stake.  I  can't  handle  a 
whip-saw  myself — more's  the  pity.  If  my  father  had  put 
me  to  that  instead  of  studying  law,  I  might  have  been  good 
for  something." 

Christopher  pricked  up  his  ears  at  these  words.  The  ac- 
complishment which  Jim  had  neglected  to  acquire  he  was 
a  proficient  in,  or,  in  other  words,  he  was  a  capital  "  top- 
sawyer,"  an  artisan  much  in  request  and  not  always  to  be 
found  in  new  camps.  He  sauntered  slowly  toward  the 
group,  and  addressed  the  partners  with  the  air  of  one  will- 
ing to  grant  a  favor  at  any  cost  to  himself. 

"  I  wuz  sorter  wild,  ez  a  boy,"  he  remarked  ;  "  an'  my 
old  man  put  me  ter'  whip-sawin',  kinder  in  hopes  ter  tone 
me  down.  I  wuz  sot  alwuz  ter  make  a  clean  job  of  what 
I  undertook,  an'  I  put  my  mind  ter  thet  thar  whip-sawin' 
tell  thar  wa'ant  a  man  could  hold  a  candle  to  me  in  th' 
hull  kentry.  Now,  seein'  ye'r  sorter  put  to  it  fur  hands, 
I  don't  mind  takin'  holt  fur  a  week,  jest  ter  'commodate 
yer." 

Jim  managed  to  convey  a  hint  to  his  companions  that 
Christopher  could  really  do  what  he  boasted  in  this  par- 
ticular line,  and  Francis  asked  him  to  name  his  terms. 

"Waal,  now,"  he  said  reflectively,  "I  hadn't  consid- 
ered thet  thar,     I  sh'd  like  ter  'blige  yer  'thout  mentionin' 


IS©         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

wages~I  shd  reely  now — but  I  wuz  recknin'  ter  prospect 
some  this  winter,  an'  I  sh'll  want  suthin'  fur  a  grub  stake. 
What  d'ye  say  ter  ten  dollars  a  day  and  board  ?" 

Francis  glanced  toward  Jim,  who  made  an  affirmative 
sign. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  You  may  consider  yourself  en* 
gaged.     Are  you  ready  to  go  to  work  now  ?" 

Columbus  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  My  breakfast  wuz  rayther  light,"  he  said,  "  owin'  ter 
tny  not  havin'  enny  show  ter  pack  pervisions  from  t'other 
•camp.     P'raps  it  'ud  be  as  well  ter  cook  dinner  fust." 

Jim's  blue  eyes  twinkled,  but  he  answered  gravely, 
"  That  is  so.  Help  yourself,  old  man,"  at  the  same  time 
handing  out  a  liberal  supply  of  "  pervisions,"  and  pointing 
to  the  embers  of  their  fire. 

Jim  and  Francis  now  turned  their  attention  to  the  work 
necessary  to  be  done  on  their  claim  before  putting  in  the 
sluices,  while  Charles  held  himself  in  readiness  to  accom- 
pany Columbus  to  the  pit.  Owing  to  the  confusion  that 
had  prevailed  ever  since  Jim's  arrival,  this  was  the  first 
opportunity  Francis  had  found  of  speaking  to  him  alone. 

"  Did  you  see  the  boys  ?  Had  they  got  back  from 
Marysville  ?"  he  asked,  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  Chris- 
topher's hearing. 

Jim  shook  his  head.  "  No,  not  the  ones  you  mean,"  he 
answered.  "  The  train  got  in  four  days  ago,  but  the  Mor- 
mon boys  decided  either  to  winter  in  Marysville  or  go  far- 
ther south.  They  made  a  little  raise  on  the  Flat,  and  they 
want  to  spend  their  money." 

La  Tour's  face  showed  his  disappointment.  Jim  ob- 
served it,  and  added, 

"  You  will  see  them  in  the  spring,  never  fear.  They 
will  be  dead  broke  by  that  time,  and  will  come  back  to  the 
Flat  to  look  up  their  friends  and  go  to  work  again.     Th^ 


A    CALIFORNIA    GULCH.  15 1 

are  good  fellows,  every  one  of  them  ;  but  they  have  been 
so  tied  down  all  their  lives  that  liberty  makes  them  a  little 
wild." 

"  I  can  understand  that,"  Francis  said,  and  then  ab- 
ruptly changed  the  subject. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  stragglers  to  whom  Jim 
alluded  began  to  arrive  on  foot.  They  had,  as  a  rule, 
limited  wardrobes  and  scant  luggage,  but  they  were  rich 
in  expectations,  and  in  every  face  shone  the  cheerful  cour- 
age which  sustained  many  a  poor  fellow  through  a  long 
succession  of  reverses,  until  his  comrades  finally  made  a 
grave  for  him  in  the  sands  from  which  he  hoped  to  dig  his 
wealth. 

These  pilgrims  increased  the  numerical  strength  of  the 
camp  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  before  night,  and  when, 
punctually  at  the  appointed  hour,  the  miners'  meeting  was 
called  to  order,  the  blaze  of  the  pine-knot  flambeaus  lighted 
a  sea  of  faces,  rugged,  bronzed,  unshaven,  but  keen,  reso- 
lute, and  expressing  in  every  lineament  that  tireless  energy 
and  unflagging  perseverance  which  have  done  so  much  to 
build  up  the  great  State  they  helped  to  found. 

The  Parson,  a  tall,  thin,  solemn-looking  native  of  the 
Middle  States,  who  was  said  to  have  occupied  a  pulpit  at 
some  former  period  of  his  life,  was  duly  elected  chairman 
of  the  meeting,  and  Jim,  whose  penmanship  was  the  won- 
der and  envy  of  his  associates,  was  chosen  secretary. 

The  first  business  before  the  meeting  was  the  adoption 
of  a  set  of  by-laws  fixing  the  boundaries  of  the  district,  and 
the  number  of  feet  to  be  included  in  a  claim  ;  also  defining 
the  conditions  which  must  be  complied  with  in  order  to 
hold  such  claim. 

When  the  article  relating  to  boundaries  was  read,  Co- 
lumbus rose  to  his  feet,  and  waving  his  hand  majestically, 
began : 


IS*        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  'Pears  ez  ef  them  thar  lines  wuz  pooty  narrer  fur  a 
kentry  like  this.  In  the  spring  of  '49  I  helped  ter  organize 
Gouge  Eye  districk,  an'  we  tuk  in  ten  mile  squar,  an' 
'lowed  five  hundred  foot  fur  discovery  an'  five  hundred  foot 
pre-emption;  an'  when  I  mined  in  South  Ameriky — " 
Here  the  president's  mace,  otherwise  the  knobbed  stick  in 
the  Parson's  right  hand,  came  down  heavily  upon  the  boul- 
der that  served  as  a  desk. 

"Time's  up,"  he  announced.  "Only  one  minute  al- 
lowed for  remarks." 

The  article  fixing  the  district  boundaries  was  put  to  vote 
without  further  argument,  and  adopted.  Then  the  second 
article,  allowing  two  hundred  feet  for  each  claim,  was 
taken  up. 

Poker  Bill,  who  reached  the  camp  just  before  sunset,  and 
found  notices  posted  all  the  way  along  the  gulch,  wished  to 
offer  a  few  remarks  before  this  was  put  to  vote.  He 
thought  that  by  allowing  two  hundred  feet  for  pre-emption 
all  the  mining  ground  was  virtually  given  over  to  a  few 
monopolists,  while  poor  men  like  himself,  working-men, 
who  were  the  bone  and  sinew  of  every  camp,  were  de- 
prived of  their  rights.  In  his  opinion  the  claims  should  be 
cut  down  to  one  hundred  feet,  that  all  might  have  an  equal 
show. 

This  proposition  brought  half  a  dozen  holders  of  claims 
to  their  feet ;  but  the  Missourian,  whose  grizzled  head 
towered  far  above  the  others,  was  first  seen  by  the  chair, 
who  ruled  that  he  had  the  floor. 

"  A  pooty  arrangement  ez  ever  I  heerd  on,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  A  few  on  us  must  go  ahead  and  prospect  the 
kentry,  make  the  trails  an'  take  all  the  risks,  an'  then  arter 
we  git  our  claims  staked  out,  in  comes  a  lot  o'  lazy  cusses 
that  never  struck  a  lick  sence  they  wuz  bom,  an'  up  an* 
sez, '  Half  o'  that,  ef  you  please.'  Now  wat  Fve  got  ter  say 


A   CALIFORNIA   GULCH.  ^SZ 

is  jest  this  :  the  man  ez  wants  half  o'  my  claim  kin  come 
an'  take  it,"  laying  his  hand  significantly  as  he  spoke  upon 
the  shot-gun  that  rested  against  the  tree  beside  him.  These 
remarks  were  loudly  applauded  by  a  portion  of  the  meet- 
ing, and  when  the  question  was  put  to  vote,  the  article  was 
adopted  as  first  read,  by  a  two-thirds  majority. 

After  disposing  of  the  by-laws,  the  only  business  before 
the  meeting  was  the  choice  of  a  recorder  for  the  district, 
and  Francis  La  Tour  was  nominated  and  declared  elected 
by  a  heavy  majority.  If  there  had  been  any  other  office  of 
trust  and  profit  to  fill,  the  miners  would  have  nominated  his 
brother  for  it  ;  for  the  "  Turtle  Doves"  had  confirmed  the 
good  impression  made  by  them  on  the  night  of  their  arrival 
at  Yreka  Flat,  and  they  had  the  whole  camp  for  their 
friends.  Besides,  the  fortunate  locators  of  claims  that 
prospected  well  felt  that  they  owed  something  to  those  who 
led  the  way  to  Shasta  Butte,  and  the  late  comers  who 
had  no  claims  as  yet  were  quite  sure  that  the  brothers  had 
discovered  diggings  that  it  would  pay  to  prospect  to  the 
very  head  of  either  gulch  ;  for,  in  the  face  of  Christopher's 
decision  several  parties  had  staked  claims  in  the  left-hand 
fork  and  panned  out  coarse  gold  in  considerable  quanti- 
ties. 

Viewed  in  any  light  the  new  camp  was  a  promising  one, 
and  the  men  who  had  just  organized  "  Chespar  District" 
felt  comfortably  certain  that  they  had  "  struck  it  rich." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT. 

'*  Father,  are  you  sure  that  God  has  called  us  to  gather 
to  Zion  in  this  way  ?" 

'*  My  child,  how  can  1  doubt  it  ?  He  has  not  left  himself 
without  a  witness  in  these  last  days.  It  is  now  as  it  was  in 
the  beginning.  Signs  that  none  can  gainsay  follow  the 
preaching  of  those  who  have  counseled  us,  in  his  name,  to 
undertake  this  journey.  Have  faith  and  patience,  my 
daughter,  and  these  light  afflictions,  which  are  but  for  a 
moment,  will  work  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory." 

The  person  to  whom  this  exhortation  was  addressed  rose 
slowly  from  the  ground  on  which  she  was  sitting,  as  though 
fearful  that  she  might  be  doing  wrong  to  rest  by  the  way. 
She  was  a  slender,  delicate-looking  girl  of  sixteen.  Her 
golden  brown  hair  fell  in  a  mass  of  tangled  curls  almost  to 
her  waist.  Her  face,  fair  still  in  spite  of  exposure  to  sun 
and  wind,  was  perfect  in  its  outlines,  though  thin  and  pale 
as  if  from  sickness  or  starvation.  Her  violet  eyes,  large, 
liquid,  and  just  now  full  of  tears,  were  cast  down  as  she 
received  her  father's  gentle  rebuke,  and  her  beautiful 
mouth  quivered  like  that  of  a  grieved  child. 

Had  she  done  wrong  to  put  such  a  question  ?  And  yet, 
who  could  help  it  ?  Here  they  were — she  a  delicate  girl, 
and  her  old  father  who  had  never  before  known  hardship — 
far  from  home,  friends,  and  country,  and  plodding  wearily 
on  foot  across  the  American  wilderness,  whose  rugged' 
mountains,  and  sandy  wastes,  and  rushing  torrents   that 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT.  155 

must  be  forded,  were  in  such  sad  contrast  to  her  dreams  of 
a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey. 

The  company  to  which  they  belonged  numbered  six 
hundred,  and  all  of  them,  young  or  old,  sick  or  well,  strong 
or  infirm,  must  make  the  terrible  journey  of  a  thousand 
miles  on  foot ;  and  more  than  this,  they  must  drag  their 
scanty  outfit  of  bedding  and  clothing  and  a  portion  of  their 
food  in  hand-carts. 

They  had  left  the  Missouri  River  late  in  August.  It  was 
now  November.  But  little  more  than  half  their  journey 
was  accomplished,  and  their  road,  marked  already  by  the 
graves  of  those  of  the  company  just  ahead  who  had  fallen 
by  the  way,  was  strewed  with  the  dead  bodies  of  the  weaker 
ones,  who  had  started  out  with  them  full  of  hope  and  faith. 

The  weather  grew  each  day  more  inclement,  the  streams 
they  had  to  wade  were  icy  cold,  and,  worse  than  all,  their 
scanty  rations  began  to  fail  so  rapidly  that  death  by  starva- 
tion stared  them  in  the  face. 

Jessie  Wilton  and  her  father  were  living  happily  in  their 
English  home  when  the  emissaries  of  the  Mormon  Church 
sought  them  out,  and  so  wrought  upon  the  credulous,  sim- 
ple-hearted old  man  by  their  "  miracles,"  "  prophecies," 
and  "  gifts  of  healing"  that  he  was  induced  to  sell  all  he 
had,  and  after  placing  the  proceeds  in  the  hands  of  the  elder 
who  had  charge  of  the  emigration,  set  out  with  his  mother- 
less child  on  this  journey,  whose  goal  was  the  Zion  hidden 
in  the  mountains — a  city  fair  as  Jerusalem  the  Golden — so 
the  girl's  dreams  and  the  old  man's  simple  faith  pictured  it. 

The  hundreds  who  had  started  with  them  on  their  toil- 
some pilgrimage  were  sustained  by  the  same  faith.  Some- 
where in  the  valleys  of  the  mountains  God  had  promised  to 
hide  his  chosen  ones  until  the  evil  days  were  overpast,  and 
now  he  called  them  to  witness  the  fulfillment  of  his  promise, 
and  share  the  security  and  peace  of  his  Saints. 


IS6         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Alas  for  their  simple  trust,  for  the  hopes  that  day  by  day 
grew  weaker,  as  cold  and  starvation  thinned  their  ranks, 
and  the  pitiless  storm  beat  upon  their  unprotected  heads  ! 
No  wonder  that  the  faith  of  the  most  devoted  began  to 
waver,  when  the  bitter  winter  of  the  northern  Territories 
overtook  them  midway  on  their  journey  ;  for  those  who  told 
them  of  the  glories  of  the  Zion  beyond  the  mountains  had 
prophesied  that  "  the  seasons  and  the  elements  would  be 
controlled  for  their  benefit,  and  though  they  would  hear  of 
storms  on  the  right  and  on  the  left,  not  one  would  be  per- 
mitted to  break  upon  their  path." 

Jessie  had  been  dragging  the  hand-cart  since  morning, 
for  her  father  had  grown  so  weak  from  exposure  and  hun- 
ger that  he  was  barely  able  to  totter  by  her  side.  At  Flor- 
ence, where  the  final  arrangements  for  the  journey  were 
made,  one  hand-cart  was  assigned  to  every  five  persons  ; 
but  there  were  many  little  children  and  even  babes  in  arms 
in  the  company,  which  reduced  the  number  of  those  able  to 
draw  the  carts  to  three  in  each  squad,  and  often  there  were 
only  two,  who  divided  the  labor  between  them. 

Fathers  put  their  little  children,  too  young  to  walk,  upon 
the  already  overloaded  carts,  and  dragged  them  until  na- 
ture gave  out.  Husbands  attempted  to  carry  their  sick 
wives  in  the  same  manner,  and  feeble  old  men  and  women 
with  frost-bitten  hands  and  feet  were  helped  as  far  as  pos- 
sible by  those  who  were  younger  and  stronger  ;  but  day  by 
day  the  number  of  those  able  to  help  others,  or  even  to 
help  themselves,  diminished,  until  at  last  Death,  the  Friend 
and  Helper  of  a  humanity  that  can  bear  no  more,  stretched 
out  the  only  hand  that  was  offered  to  the  sinking  victims. 

The  day  was  wearing  away,  and  the  biting  wind  chilled 
even  the  strongest  to  the  very  marrow.  Jessie,  who  saw 
that  her  father  was  every  moment  growing  weaker,  begged 
him  to  get  on  the  cart. 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT.  15 7 

"  I  can  pull  you  a  little  way,  father,"  declared  the  girl, 
who  had  eaten  nothing  that  day  except  a  fragment  of  hard 
biscuit.  "  Look  !  there  is  a  storm  coming,  and  we  are  far 
behind  the  others.     Do  let  me  try  to  draw  you  along." 

"  No,  my  daughter,"  he  answered.  "  Do  you  hurry  on 
and  send  some  of  the  men  back  to  help  me  ;  or,  maybe  I 
can  go  a  little  farther  ;"  but  even  as  he  spoke  he  tottered 
and  fell. 

"  Father  !  father  !  I  cannot  leave  you  !"  she  cried  in 
anguish.  '*  You  will  be  frozen  to  death  long  before  any 
one  can  come  for  you,"  and  with  all  her  strength  she  tried 
to  lift  him,  but  could  not. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?"  She  wrung  her  hands  as  she 
looked  in  vain  for  some  sign  that  they  were  missed  by  those 
ahead.  "  If  I  could  only  build  a  fire  ;  but  I  have  nothing, 
not  even  a  match." 

She  pulled  the  scanty  supply  of  bedding  from  the  cart, 
wrapped  her  father  in  it,  and  rubbed  his  stiffening  limbs  ; 
but  his  eyes  were  already  dim  with  death. 

"Listen,  daughter,"  he  said  feebly,  "for  these  are  my 
last  words.  The  men  who  counseled  us  to  take  this  jour- 
ney were,  mayhap,  mistaken  ;  but  never  charge  their  mis- 
take on  our  covenant-keeping  God.  Fifty  years  have  I  trust- 
ed him,  and  his  goodness  has  never  failed.  I  commit  you 
to  his  tender  mercies.  Good-by,  my  Jessie,  my  little  girl. 
I  cannot  see  your  dear  face,  but  I  shall  see  you  where  they 
hunger  no  more — where  all  tears  are  wiped  away.  I  am 
going  to  your  mother.  Don't  cry,  Jessie — father's  little 
girl." 

The  fluttering  breath  grew  fainter,  then  ceased.  The 
snow-flakes  began  to  sift  down  upon  the  face  that  was  as 
cold  as  they.  The  desolate  orphan  ceased  to  sob.  Her 
head  sank  upon  her  father's  breast,  and  in  a  little  while  she 
would  have  slept  with  him,  but  three  of  the  strongest  men 


1S8         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

in  the  company,  detailed  to  look  after  the  feeble  ones  who 
fell  behind  and  to  bury  the  dead,  came  up  at  this  moment 
and  lifted  her,  only  half  conscious,  into  the  cart. 

One  of  the  men  now  hurried  forward  with  the  girl,  and 
the  other  two,  after  satisfying  themselves  that  life  was  ex- 
tinct in  the  motionless  figure  before  them,  dug  a  shallow 
grave,  and  without  coffin,  without  funeral  rites,  without  a 
mourner  (for  those  who  laid  him  away  in  his  last  resting- 
place  felt  that  he  was  to  be  envied),  the  body  of  the  old  man 
was  committed  to  the  frozen  earth, 

A  couple  of  hours  afterward,  Jessie,  restored  to  con- 
sciousness, began  to  ask, 

"  Where  is  my  father  ?" 

"In  heaven,  child,"  said  one  who  sat  near.  "You 
surely  do  not  wish  him  back  ?" 

"  No.  Oh,  no,  I  remember  now  ;  but  I  was  going  with 
him.     Why  did  you  hinder  me  ?" 

There  was  little  time  for  rest,  and  still  less  for  tears,  that 
bitter  night.  The  storm  which  began  before  sunset  in- 
creased in  violence,  and  the  howling  winds  blew  down  the 
tents  which  were  their  only  shelter,  and  drifted  the  snow 
into  their  feeble  fires.  Morning  found  the  living  chilled 
and  exhausted,  with  neither  strength  nor  courage  for  the 
day's  journey,  and  in  the  snow  that  surrounded  the  camp 
lay  the  bodies  of  five  who,  during  the  night,  had  taken  the 
journey  from  which  none  return. 

All  the  dead  were  hastily  buried  in  one  grave,  and  then 
the  survivors,  with  little  hope  that  another  sun  would  rise 
on  any  of  them,  again  pushed  forward. 

Numbers  dropped  by  the  way  as  they  toiled  slowly  on- 
ward, but  they  dared  not  stop,  for  they  knew  that  their 
utmost  exertions  would  barely  enable  them  to  reach  a 
camping-ground  which  would  afford  fuel  for  their  fires. 
At  length,  just  before  night  overtook  the  exhausted  com- 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT.  159 

pany,  they  were  met  by  messengers  who  were  as  welcome 
as  angels  from  heaven — two  men  who  had  ridden  on  in  ad- 
vance of  half  a  dozen  wagons  sent  out  from  the  valley  with 
provisions. 

The  gooa  news  they  brought  infused  life  into  the  perish- 
ing multitude,  and  superhuman  exertions  were  made  to 
reach  a  good  camping-ground  sixteen  miles  ahead,  where 
also  there  were  some  abandoned  log-cabins  that  would 
afford  them  shelter.  By  almost  incredible  efforts  on  the 
part  of  those  who  had  charge  of  the  train,  this  station  was 
reached  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  but  twelve  more 
of  their  number  were  left  dead  in  the  snow. 

Here  it  was  decided  to  make  the  most  comfortable  camp 
possible  under  the  circumstances,  and  wait  for  the  relief 
which  was  on  the  way  ;  but  on  the  first  night  in  camp  all 
that  was  left  of  their  scanty  rations  was  dealt  out.  The 
only  food  now  remaining  in  the  company  was  a  few  pounds 
of  rice  and  hard  bread,  which  had  been  reserved  for  the 
sick  and  for  the  youngest  children,  and  for  two  days  they 
endured  the  pangs  of  starvation. 

There  were  fifteen  deaths  in  these  two  days,  and  when 
on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the  long-looked-for  wagons 
drove  into  camp,  many  more  were  too  far  gone  to  be  bene- 
fited by  the  food  they  brought.  After  a  day's  rest  the 
train  was  again  put  in  motion  ;  those  who  were  unable  to 
drag  their  carts  being  allowed  to  load  their  effects  into  the 
wagons,  while  those  who  could  not  walk  were  permitted  to 
ride. 

Thus  heavily  loaded,  the  wagons,  drawn  by  oxen,  moved 
slowly  along  with  the  hand-cart  train,  stopping  every  now 
and  then  to  bury  some  one  for  whom  help  had  come  too 
late. 

It  was  a  noticeable  fact  that  many  women  and  young 
girls  kept  on  their  feet  and  continued  to  drag  their  carts. 


i6o         THE   FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

while  the  men  beside  them  dropped  to  the  ground  dying  or 
dead.  In  some  instances  the  young  girls  were  the  only 
survivors  out  of  a  large  family  when  the  train  finally 
reached  Salt  Lake.*  Three  bright  young  English  girls  saw 
father,  mother,  and  five  brothers  die  one  after  the  other  of 
cold  and  starvation,  while  they  remained  able  to  pull  their 
carts,  and  entered  Salt  Lake  in  safety. 

Jessie  Wilton  was  among  the  number  gifted  with  this 
power  of  endurance.  She  walked  every  step  of  the  way 
from  the  Missouri  to  Salt  Lake  valley,  and  for  more  than 
two  thirds  of  the  distance  dragged  the  hand-cart  which  had 
been  assigned  to  her  and  her  father  at  starting.  When  she 
reached  Salt  Lake  she  was  thin  and  haggard  from  starva- 
tion, but  no  other  consequences  of  the  terrible  journey  were 
manifest. 

She  was  ragged,  shoeless,  and  penniless  also,  for  her 
father's  little  hoard,  which  had  been  intrusted  to  the  elder 
who  persuaded  them  to  come,  had  disappeared  ;  but,  unlike 
many  others,  she  had  a  home  to  go  to.  Her  mother's 
uncle,  a  well-to-do  Englishman  who  had  settled  in  the  val- 
ley three  years  before,  received  the  orphan  into  his  childless 
household,  and  in  a  few  months  she  began  to  bear  some 
likeness  to  the  "  singing  bird,"  the  old  father's  darling, 
who  had  made  his  home  glad  for  so  many  years. 

But,  for  a  time,  it  seemed  almost  as  though  she  had 
escaped  the  perib  of  the  wilderness  only  to  fall  into  greater 
perils  in  the  Zion  which  she  had  long  since  ceased  to  com- 
pare to  "  Jerusalem  the  Golden."  With  returning  health 
and  strengrth  all  her  winsome,  girlish  beauty  came  back, 
and  from  the  glossy  braids  of  golden-brown  hair  that 
crowned  her  shapely  head  to  the  tiny  foot  whose  light  press- 
ure scarcely  left  a  print  on  the  earth,  she  was  too  fair  to 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  J.  page  345. 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT.  l6i 

know  an  hour's  safety  in  that  den  of  beasts,  had  she  not 
been  guarded  as  she  was  by  her  uncle,  whose  position,  in- 
fluence, and  money  made  it  a  matter  of  policy  with  the 
authorities  to  conciliate  him,  and  by  her  aunt,  who  at 
heart  detested  Mormonism  and  all  things  connected  with  it. 

Though  many  of  the  leaders  of  the  people  looked  upon 
her  beauty  with  longing  eyes,  and  more  than  one  hoary- 
headed  apostle  with  a  score  of  wives  asked  her  in  marriage, 
Brigham  Young  refused  to  compel  her  uncle  to  sacrifice 
her. 

"  The  girl  shall  choose  for  herself,"  was  his  stereotyped 
answer  to  all  petitions,  until  more  than  one  came  to  believe 
that  he  designed  her  for  himself.  In  this,  however,  they 
were  mistaken.  The  reigning  favorite  in  the  Prophet's 
harem  at  this  time  was  herself  a  beauty  of  no  common 
order,  and  withal  a  jealous  one,  and  her  influence  over  him 
was  sufficient  to  hinder  him  from  taking  a  wife  whom  she 
would  have  regarded  as  a  rival. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  it  happened  that  Philip 
La  Tour  met  the  violet-eyed  maiden  at  her  uncle's  house. 
Philip  was  now  twenty-four  years  old,  and  in  spite  of  the 
advice  of  his  elders  he  still  remained  single  ;  but  possibly 
this  was  because  the  girls  who  arrived  with  each  year's 
emigration  were  appropriated  by  gray-haired  representa- 
tives of  the  priesthood  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  valley. 

Blanche,  his  only  remaining  sister,  had  lately  been  mar- 
ried to  a  neighbor's  son,  a  young  man  whose  good  heart 
and  sound  principles  had  thus  far  survived  the  blighting 
influences  of  Mormonism,  and  thus  Philip  was  left  quite 
alone  in  the  home  that,  by  untiring  industry,  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  making  comfortable  and  even  pleasant. 

He  was  still  as  fanatical  as  ever  in  his  religious  belief, 
and  the  tenth  of  all  his  earnings,  together  with  consider- 
ably more  than  a  tenth  of  the  money  which  he  received 


1 62         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

from  time  to  time  from  his  brothers  in  California,  was 
regularly  paid  into  the  Prophet's  coffers.  Yet,  in  spite  of 
the  continual  drain  consequent  upon  this  payment  ot  tithes, 
he  prospered,  and  in  spite  of  Mormonism  his  daily  life  was 
irreproachable,  thanks  to  his  inherited  integrity  and  the 
lessons  his  mother  taught  him  in  childhood. 

He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  physical  manhood— tall,  lithe, 
strong-limbed-  and  with  a  handsome  face  and  a  winning 
smile  that  would  have  made  him  a  dangerous  rival  of  the 
graybeards  around  him,  had  such  rivalry  been  possible. 

Jessie,  who  was  not  yet  so  thoroughly  converted  to  Mor- 
monism as  to  prefer  exaltation  in  the  next  world  as  the 
tenth  wife  of  an  elderly  apostle,  to  happiness  in  this  world 
as  the  one  wife  of  a  man  who  loved  her,  found  the  hand- 
some youth  a  pleasant  acquaintance — dangerously  pleasant 
in  a  community  where  young  men  and  maidens  were  so 
closely  watched,  but  where,  after  a  couple  of  months,  he 
told  the  story  that  has  been  told  so  many  thousand  times 
since  the  first  pair  of  lovers  met  in  Eden.  Not  even  the  con- 
cluding assurance  that  he  had  first  sought  and  obtained 
the  Prophet's  approval  could  dampen  the  joy  that  glowed 
in  the  depths  of  her  violet  eyes  and  flushed  her  soft  cheeks 
as  she  gave  him  his  answer. 

But  alas  !  when  the  wedding-day  came,  there  was  that 
to  endure  which  not  only  dampened  joy  but  well-nigh 
crushed  out  life.  By  the  Prophet's  express  command,  they 
were  to  be  married  in  the  Endowment  House,  and  the 
hideous  ordeal  through  which  the  poor  girl  was  compelled 
to  pass  inspired  such  terror  and  loathing  that  when  she 
knelt  for  the  last  time  in  the  "  sacred  circle,"  and  was 
ordered  to  repeat  with  the  others  the  fearful  oaths  of  blood 
and  vengeance  which  completed  the  vows  that  made  them 
the  slaves  of  the  Prophet  forever,  she  fainted  quite  away, 
and  was  carried  from  the  room  insensible.     When  she  re- 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT,  163 

covered  consciousness,  all  the  other  candidates  had  passed 
*'  beyond  the  veil"  except  her  lover,  and  with  him  beside 
her  she  submitted  to  the  final  ceremony  and  was  ushered 
into  the  sealing-room.  Before  her  own  marriage  took  place, 
however,  she  was  an  unwilling  witness  of  the  nuptials  of  a 
plural  bride,  while  the  first  wife  knelt  beside  the  altar, 
silent  and  tearless,  but  with  such  a  look  of  anguish  and 
despair  on  her  white  face  that  the  memory  of  it  haunted 
the  beholder  for  years. 

In  spite  of  Jessie's  loving  faith  in  the  man  of  her  choice, 
the  torturing  question, 

"  Shall  I  ever  be  conipelled  to  act  such  a  part  ?"  forced 
itself  upon  her  as  she  saw  the  wretched  wife  place  the  hand 
of  the  youthful  bride  in  that  of  her  husband,  and  bow  her 
head  in  answer  to  the  question, 

"  Do  you  give  this  woman  unto  this  man,  even  as  Sarah 
gave  Hagar  to  Abraham  ?" 

When  it  came  her  turn  to  kneel  with  Philip  at  the  same 
altar,  the  vision  of  that  pallid  face,  stamped  with  the  seal 
of  death — the  death  of  hope  and  happiness  and  love — 
seemed  to  rise  between  her  and  the  man  who  held  her  hand 
in  a  tender  and  loyal  clasp,  and  at  the  very  threshold  of  her 
new  life  the  sweetness  of  wedded  love  was  mixed  with  the 
bitterness  of  a  nameless  dread. 

She  could  not  say,  even  to  herself, 

"  I  fear  that  some  day  my  husband  will  ask  me  to  yield 
my  place  to  another," 

She  trusted  him  fully,  she  loved  him  wholly,  and  yet,  as 
they  left  the  accursed  mysteries  of  the  Endowment  House 
behind  them  she  felt  that  a  shadow  had  fallen  across  their 
path  which  the  clear  shining  sun  could  not  dispel. 

Philip  had  done  his  utmost  to  make  his  home  worthy  of 
his  fair  bride,  and,  on  the  summer  evening  when  they  took 
possession  of  it,  it  looked  pleasant  enough  to  content  them 


!64         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

both,  had  their  hearts  been  quite  at  rest ;  but  Philip,  no 
less  than  his  bride,  felt  the  effects  of  the  ordeal  through 
which  they  had  passed,  and  the  scenes  they  had  been  com- 
pelled to  witness. 

A  honeymoon  begun  thus  could  not  be  filled  with  unal- 
loyed happiness  ;  but  the  love  that  had  drawn  them  together 
was  strong  and  enduring,  and  Jessie's  sunny  temper  and 
Philip's  sterling  goodness  were  proof  against  influences 
that  might  otherwise  have  turned  the  sweetness  of  married 
life  into  gall  and  wormwood. 

Jessie's  uncle,  to  whom  the  gentle  orphan  was  as  a 
daughter,  gave  her  a  marriage  portion  of  three  thousand 
dollars,  and  with  this  slender  capital  Philip  became  a  mer- 
chant on  a  small  scale.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  he  was  pros- 
pered, and  by  the  end  of  the  year  was  able  to  enlarge  his 
business. 

With  the  close  of  their  first  year  of  wedded  happiness 
came  also  another  gift,  far  more  precious  than  the  money 
that  began  to  flow  in — a  dark-eyed  baby  boy,  with  his 
mother's  smile  lighting  up  his  father's  features.  Now  in- 
deed the  shadow  that  dimmed  their  sunshine  seemed  to 
melt  away. 

"  Baby  fingers,  waxen  touches"  drove  that  nameless  fear 
from  the  mother's  breast,  and  Philip,  now  not  only  her 
husband  but  her  baby's  father,  was  her  king,  who  could  do 
no  wrong. 

For  six  months  she  lived  in  a  dream  of  delight,  only  rous- 
ing herself  to  say  sometimes  to  Philip,  as  both  were  gazing 
fondly  upon  the  little  head  pillowed  on  her  bosom, 

**  My  love,  I  fear  we  are  too  happy.  Something  tells  me 
that  this  cannot  last." 

It  did  not  last.  One  night  both  were  roused  from  sleep 
to  find  their  idol  struggling  and  gasping  for  breath,  and 
when  morning  came  nothing  remained  to  them  but  a  little 


A    THOUSAND  MILES  AFOOT.  165 

waxen  figure,  still  and  cold,  which  neither  wakened  nor 
stirred  when  hot  tears  and  passionate  kisses  were  rained 
upon  it. 

After  their  baby  was  buried  out  of  their  sight,  love, 
sanctified  by  sorrow,  drew  their  bleeding  hearts  more 
closely  together.  In  speaking,  long  afterward,  of  those 
days,  the  wife  said, 

"  My  husband  was  my  all.  I  did  not  simply  love  him, 
I  worshiped  him.  He  was  more  to  me  than  God  or  my 
own  soul." 

Are  there  not  others  whom  sorrow  has  brought  to  cling, 
in  the  same  way,  to  the  one  dear  object  left  in  a  world  from 
which  all  else  that  the  heart  delighted  in  has  been  taken  .'' 

Another  year  passed,  and  then  a  sweet  little  blue-eyed 
girl  came  to  brighten  their  home  ;  but  though  welcomed 
joyfully,  and  tenderly  beloved  by  both  parents,  she  could 
not  fill  in  the  mother's  heart  the  place  of  the  first-born. 

Another  year  glided  away,  and  little  Lily  was  just  begin- 
ning to  totter  across  the  room  on  uncertain  feet,  and  lisp 
sweet  baby  words,  when  she  too  sickened,  and  in  spite  of 
all  that  love  could  do  to  save  her,  faded  from  their  sight, 
and  was  laid  beside  her  brother. 

This  time,  when  they  returned  from  the  burial  of  their 
little  one  and  sat  down  beside  the  empty  cradle,  Philip  put 
his  arms  around  his  wife  and  said  tenderly, 

"  My  love,  in  some  way,  though  I  know  not  how,  we  are 
displeasing  God.  He  does  not  afflict  willingly.  I  remem- 
ber a  text  like  that  which  my  mother  taught  me  long  ago. 
When  he  punishes  us  it  is  in  love — it  is  because  he  must. 
Let  us  try  and  find  out  what  sin  we  are  cherishing  that 
calls  for  such  bitter  correction. " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  LA  TOUR  BOYS   AGAIN. 

The  Shasta  Butte  diggings  were  rich — nobody  disputed 
that — but  the  ground  that  could  be  worlied  profitably  was 
limited  in  extent,  and  the  "  stampede"  in  the  fall  of  '52, 
which  lasted  until  some  weeks  after  the  snow  began  to  fall, 
brought  in  rather  more  men  than  the  camp  had  any  use 
for,  and  in  the  spring  of  '53  fully  half  of  those  who  had 
gathered  there  left,  either  to  prospect  on  their  own  ac- 
count or  to  follow  up  some  of  the  new  strikes  that  were 
reported  on  every  side. 

The  La  Tours,  who  had  worked  their  claim  during  the 
winter  as  steadily  as  the  weather  permitted,  sold  out  in 
May  and  left  the  gulch  richer  by  ten  thousand  dollars  than 
when  they  entered  it  the  previous  October.  They  had  no 
particular  destination.  Wonderful  stories  were  afloat  con- 
cerning the  new  discoveries  made  in  Nevada  County,  and 
they  had  some  thoughts  of  turning  their  steps  in  that  di- 
rection ;  but  first  they  must  look  up  the  young  men  from 
Utah,  whom  thus  far  they  had  not  been  able  to  find. 

Lucky  Jim  repeated  his  assurance  that  they  would  make 
their  way  back  to  Yreka  Flat  in  the  spring  "  dead  broke  ;" 
and  partly  on  this  account,  and  partly  because  Yreka  was 
the  nearest  outfitting  point,  they  rode  over  there  the  morn- 
ing after  bidding  adieu  to  Chespar  District. 

Yreka  had  met  with  a  good  many  changes  in  eight 
months.  It  was  now  an  ambitious  canvas  town,  with  a 
dozen  lumber  buildings  besides,  which   constituted  what 


THE  LA   TOUR  BOYS  AGAIN.  167 

was  proudly  designated  "the  business  block."  Mer- 
chants in  all  sorts  of  wares  reported  "  lively  times,"  there 
was  the  usual  number  of  saloons,  and  everything  about 
the  place  indicated  the  process  of  transition  from  a  camp  to 
a  town.  The  brothers  put  up  at  the  Astoria,  a  hotel  with 
log  walls  and  canvas  front,  which  was,  as  the  rather 
highly-colored  placard  beside  the  door  announced,  "  The 
only  strictly  first-class  house  in  Yreka." 

As  if  to  prove  Jim  a  prophet,  almost  the  first  words  ad- 
dressed to  them  by  the  landlord,  after  the  conventional  in- 
quiry, "  What  will  you  take  ?"  were, 

"  Them  Salt  Lake  chaps  that  you  fellers  wor  a-huntin' 
in  the  tall  hez  turned  up.  Got  back  last  week  with  nary 
red.     Cleaned  out  in  'Frisco.     Sech  is  life." 

The  "  Salt  Lake  chaps,"  three  in  number,  were  found, 
after  a  short  search,  sitting  round  the  embers  of  the  fire 
which  had  served  to  cook  their  scanty  supper,  discussing 
in  a  mood  anything  but  hopeful  the  chances  of  obtaining 
work  in  the  crowded  camp.  They  did  not  recognize  their 
visitors  until  they  introduced  themselves  by  name.  The 
lapse  of  years  had  changed  the  boys  who  left  winter  quar- 
ters in  1848  into  bronzed  and  bearded  men,  and  the  others 
whom  Francis  remembered  as  lads  in  their  teens  were  now 
stalwart  specimens  of  the  California  miner. 

Only  one  of  the  boys,  Dick  West  by  name,  really  hailed 
from  Salt  Lake.  The  others  were  from  the  northern  set- 
tlements. Dick,  at  first  was  very  communicative,  rattling 
off  an  amount  of  news  about  their  mutual  acquaintances 
which  did  credit  to  his  imagination  if  not  to  his  memory, 
but  when  Francis  La  Tour  inquired  after  his  own  family 
the  fluent  young  man  grew  silent  and  constrained.  He 
hardly  ever  saw  any  of  them  except  Philip,  he  said.  The 
rest  of  the  family  kept  themselves  very  close.  Philip  was 
growing  up  a  likely  sort  of  boy,  but  the  old  boss,  by  which 


l68         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

irreverent  term  West  designated  the  Prophet,  kept  a  tight 
grip  on  him. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning,  when  Francis  found 
an  opportunity  of  speaking  with  West  alone,  that  the  kind- 
hearted  young  fellow  could  be  brought  to  tell  what  he 
knew.  His  story  was  the  one  commonly  reported  in  Salt 
Lake  with  regard  to  Madame  La  Tour's  disappearance  ; 
and  as  he  with  the  others  really  believed  that  she  wandered 
to  the  river  in  a  fit  of  temporary  insanity  and  was  acci- 
dentally drowned,  he  gave  the  account  with  an  air  of  sin- 
cerity that  convinced  his  hearer  of  its  truth. 

Of  the  sisters  he  had  little  to  tell.  He  knew  that  Louise 
taught  the  Prophet's  children,  and  that  the  younger  girls 
were  with  their  brother,  and  he  believed  that  all  were  safe 
and  well. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what  is  the  truth,"  he  continued  im- 
pressively ;  "you  want  to  keep  away  from  there.  You 
could  do  no  good  to  any  of  your  family  by  being  seen  in 
Utah.  You  are  apostates,  and  in  all  the  sermons  they 
preach  nowadays  they  recommend  sending  apostates  to 
the  bottomless  pit  by  the  shortest  route.  Philip  is  a  sort  of 
favorite,  and  he  and  the  girls  will  do  well  enough,  but  you 
would  be  blood-atoned  without  having  time  to  say  your 
prayers,  if  you  were  caught  inside  the  Territory.  I  could 
tell  you  things  that  would  make  your  hair  stand  on  end — 
things  that  I've  seen  with  my  own  eyes.  It  was  some- 
thing that  happened  almost  at  our  door  that  made  me 
think  it  was  time  to  leave,  and  nothing  on  earth  could  per- 
suade me  to  go  back." 

West  was  sincere  :  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that ; 
and  his  repeated  assurance  that  the  brothers  would  bring 
trouble  upon  their  family  instead  of  helping  them,  by  mak- 
ing any  attempt  to  get  them  away,  finally  caused  them  to 
give  up  the  idea  of  returning  to  Utah.     Here  they  were 


THE  LA  TOUR  BOYS  AGAIN.  169 

freemen,  and  an  honorable  career  was  open  to  them.  In 
the  dominions  of  the  Mormon  Prophet  they  could  only  live 
as  slaves,  if  permitted  to  live  at  all. 

The  most  painful  'thing  involved  in  their  decision 
was  what  seemed  to  them  the  virtual  abandonment  of 
their  sisters,  whose  rescue  they  were  urged  to  undertake 
by  every  manly  and  fraternal  impulse  ;  but  West  assured 
them  that  there  was  not  the  faintest  possibility  of  succeed- 
ing in  such  an  attempt — and  he  was  right.  For  twenty 
years  no  woman  left  the  Territory  without  the  Prophet's 
permission,  unless  under  military  escort,  and  more  than 
one  generous  man  who  dared  the  consequences  of  attempt- 
ing to  release  these  victims  of  priestly  tyranny  paid  for  the 
desperate  venture  with  his  life. 

1853  and  '54  were  prosperous  years  for  the  brothers  ;  so 
much  so  that  buckskin  purses  and  oyster-cans  no  longer 
sufficed  as  receptacles  for  their  gold,  and  the  books  of  the 
San  Francisco  banking-house  in  which  their  surplus  cap- 
ital was  deposited  showed  the  handsome  balance  of  eighty 
thousand  dollars  in  their  favor.  They  ought  by  this  time 
to  have  been  moderately  happy,  if  success  could  bring  hap- 
piness, but  both  of  them  were  domestic  in  their  tastes,  and 
longed  to  end  their  wanderings  and  make  a  home  some- 
where. 

The  material  for  such  a  home  as  they  dreamed  of  was 
not,  however,  to  be  found  in  California  at  this  period. 

There  were  a  few  families  in  San  Francisco  and  the 
other  towns  which  were  beginning  to  take  on  the  name  of 
cities,  but  a  large  majority  of  the  population  were  men 
like  themselves,  who  had  no  certain  dwelling-place. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  '55  they  repaired  to  San  Francis- 
co, with  their  minds  made  up  to  take  passage  for  the  States. 
On  the  morning  after  their  arrival,  Charles,  who  was  look- 


17©         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

ing  over  the  paper  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  turned  sud- 
denly to  his  brother,  saying, 

"We  are  advertised  for,  I  don't  think  anybody  wants 
to  arrest  us,  do  you  ?" 

Francis  took  the  paper  from  his  brother's  hand  and  read 
aloud  : 

"  Information  wanted  of  Francis  and  Charles  La  Tour, 
who  emigrated  to  Oregon  in  the  spring  of  1848,  and  who 
removed  subsequently  to  Nevada  County,  Cal.  Any  per- 
son knowing  the  whereabouts  of  the  aforesaid  parties  will 
be  liberally  rewarded  upon  communicating  such  informa- 
tion to  Rand  &  Co.,  No.  —  M St." 

"  Rand  &  Co.  are  not  detectives,  that's  one  comfort,"  he 
observed.  "  I  think  I'll  walk  down  there  myself  and  claim 
the  reward." 

The  place  indicated  in  the  advertisement  was  the  office 
of  a  well-known  law  firm.  Francis  betook  himself  thither 
in  the  course  of  an  hour,  feeling  no  special  curiosity  with 
regard  to  the  person  inquiring  for  him. 

"  Some  of  the  boys  from  Yreka  want  to  hunt  us  up,  I 
suppose,"  he  said  to  Charles  on  starting. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  "  the  boys,"  especially 
those  who  were  "out  of  luck,"  to  hunt  up  the  Turtle 
Doves,  who  could  never  see  an  old  comrade  in  trouble 
without  offering  to  help  him.  This  time  the  applicant 
might  be  Jim,  whom  they  had  lost  sight  of  for  a  year  or 
more.  When  last  heard  from  he  had  got  rid  of  the  five 
thousand  dollars  that  he  made  at  Shasta,  and  was  reduced 
to  his  normal  condition  of  impecuniosity. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  help  Jim.  Hope  I  can  find  out  a 
way  to  do  it  without  offending  him,"  he  soliloquized  as  he 
walked  along,  and  with  this  idea  in  his  mind  he  presented 
himself  at  the  office  of  Rand  &  Co.,  and  stated  his  name 
and  business  to  the  senior  partner. 


THE  LA   TOUR  BOYS  AGAIN.  17 1 

"  La  Tour  ?  Ah,  yes  ;"  said  Mr.  Rand.  "  Very  happy, 
I  am  sure,  to  find  that  our  advertisement  has  reached  you. 
The  person  inquiring  for  you  is  your  brother-in-law." 

"  Brother-in-law  !  I  was — not  aware  that  I  had  such  a 
relative,"  La  Tour  said. 

*'  The  gentleman  was  accompanied  by  his  wife  when  he 
called  at  our  office,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  the  lady  cer- 
tainly bears  a  decided  resemblance  to  you." 

Francis  was  startled.  Could  one  of  his  sisters  by  any 
possibility  be  in  San  Francisco  ?  If  so,  she  must  be  the 
wife  of  a  Mormon  missionary  ;  and  more  than  this,  her 
own  loyalty  to  the  Prophet  must  be  above  suspicion,  or  she 
would  never  be  allowed  to  travel  with  him.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  thought ;  and  much  as  he  had  longed  to  see  the  face 
of  one  of  his  kindred,  he  set  out  to  look  up  the  address  given 
him  by  the  lawyer,  in  a  frame  of  mind  by  no  means  enviable. 

The  name  on  the  slip  of  paper  he  held  in  his  hand  fur- 
nished no  clew  to  the  identity  of  his  unknown  brother-in- 
law,  for  during  the  years  that  he  spent  among  the  Saints 
he  had  not  happened  to  hear  of  George  Denys. 

When  he  reached  the  house  he  was  somewhat  reassured 
by  the  face  and  bearing  of  the  man  who  offered  him  his 
hand,  saying, 

"  This  is  a  far  better  answer  to  my  advertisement  than  I 
hoped  for." 

Francis  asked  at  once  for  his  sister. 

"She  is  not  very  well,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  I  would 
like  first  to  have  her  prepared  for  the  interview.  Our  es- 
cape from  Utah  was  attended  with  perils  and  hardships 
from  the  effects  of  which  she  has  not  quite  recovered." 

**  Your  escape  !"  Francis  looked  bewildered.  "  Why,  I 
thought — " 

"  You  thought  nobody  escaped  from  that  place,  I  sup- 
pose." 


17»        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  No  ;  that  is  not  just  what  I  was  going  to  say.  1 
thought  you  were  a  missionary  sent  out  by  the  Church." 

There  was  a  look  in  Denys'  eyes  which  the  other  could 
not  fathom,  as  he  answered, 

"  My  last  mission  in  behalf  of  the  Church  cost  me  too 
much,  and  I  decided  never  to  undertake  another — but  I 
am  forgetting  the  explanation  which  I  owe  you.  If  you  can 
wait  an  hour  to  see  your  sister,  I  will  try  and  tell  you  why 
we  are  here,  and  what  drove  us  from  Utah." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Denys  had  a  deeply  interested 
auditor  while  he  related,  in  the  fewest  words  possible,  the 
story  of  the  last  two  years.  He  did  not  allude  in  any  way 
to  his  wife's  previous  history.  He  knew  that  her  elder 
brothers  had  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
sealed  to  the  Prophet  Joseph,  and  for  her  sake  he  hoped 
they  might  never  learn  anything  of  her  relations  to  Kimball. 

For  himself  he  spoke  honestly  when  he  assured  her  be- 
fore their  marriage  that  in  his  mind  no  shadow  of  blame 
attached  to  her.  In  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  might  be  a 
disgraced  and  ruined  woman  ;  in  his  eyes  she  was,  as  he 
had  said,  only  the  victim  of  a  system  which  he  had  helped 
to  uphold  ;  and  though  when  he  proposed  to  make  her  his 
wife  he  was  actuated  solely  by  pity,  and  a  wish  to  rescue  her 
from  her  surroundings,  he  had  already  learned  to  love  her. 

And  Louise  ?  It  is  true  that,  as  she  had  told  Denys,  she 
knew  nothing  of  such  love  as  happier  women  feel,  but  grati- 
tude  to  her  preserver  was  changing  into  a  tender  affection. 
Those  days  of  suffering  on  the  desert  had  done  more  to 
draw  them  together  than  months  of  ordinary  experience, 
and  for  the  first  time  since  she  left  the  shelter  of  her  own 
home  she  felt  that  she  had  some  one  to  confide  in  and 
lean  upon. 

Yet  there  were  hours  when  the  memory  of  the  horrors  of 
her  past  life  came  upon  her  like  a  flood,  and  threatened  to 


THE  LA    TOUR  BOYS  AGAIN.  173 

overwhelm  her.  At  such  times  she  could  not  bear  to  look 
upon  a  human  face,  not  even  upon  that  of  the  husband  who 
was  growing  so  dear  to  her,  and  he  wisely  left  her  to  her- 
self until  her  mind  recovered  its  wonted  tone.  He  knew 
that  she  at  once  desired  and  dreaded  to  meet  her  brothers, 
and  it  was  this  state  of  feeling  quite  as  much  as  her  health 
which  made  him  anxious  to  prepare  her  for  such  a  meet- 
ing. 

Francis  waited  for  what  seemed  to  him  a  very  long  time 
in  the  room  in  which  his  brother-in-law  left  him.  At 
length  there  were  footsteps  in  the  hall,  the  rustle  of  dra- 
peries, and  the  door  opened,  admitting  a  tall,  pale,  dark- 
eyed  woman,  whom  Francis  recognized  as  La  Belle  Louise, 
chiefly  by  her  likeness  to  the  mother,  whose  face  was 
never  absent  from  his  memory. 

The  meeting  between  the  long-separated  brother  and 
sister  was  most  affectionate,  and  on  one  side  altogether 
joyful,  but  Louise's  happiness  was  alloyed  by  the  bitter 
thought, 

"  If  my  brother  knew  all,  he  would  cast  me  off." 

In  thinking  thus  she  did  him  a  measure  of  injustice,  and 
yet  it  is  certain  that  had  the  truth  been  told  him  she  could 
not  have  been  the  same  to  him  that  she  was  in  the  days 
when  the  same  roof  sheltered  them. 

Before  Francis  left  he  learned  that  Catherine  had  also 
succeeded  in  reaching  California  with  her  husband,  and 
that  they  were  comfortably  established  on  a  ranch  about 
twenty-five  miles  from  the  city.  Both  the  brothers  rode 
out  to  the  ranch  the  next  day,  and  found  the  place  so  much 
to  their  liking  that  the  project  of  returning  to  the  States 
was  indefinitely  postponed. 

Catherine  had  no  concealments  and  no  bitter  memories, 
and  perhaps  on  this  account  there  was  something  in  her 
welcome  which  they  missed  in. that  of  Louise.     At  any 


174         I^HE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

rate,  the  unpretentious  house  in  which  the  married  lovers 
had  enshrined  their  Lares  and  Penates  came  so  near  to  re- 
alizing their  brothers'  ideal  of  a  home  that  they  begged  the 
privilege  of  sharing  it,  and  formed  a  partnership  with  Ken- 
yon,  which  was  highly  advantageous  to  the  latter,  who  was 
richer  in  good  sense  and  sound  principles  than  in  money. 

During  the  winter  that  followed  their  settlement  at  the 
ranch,  the  brothers  talked  freely  with  Kenyon  and  his  wife 
about  their  mother's  disappearance.  Catherine  still  ad- 
hered to  her  unsupported,  and,  to  all  except  herself,  un- 
reasonable belief  that  her  mother  still  lived  ;  but  Kenyon, 
when  he  talked  with  the  brothers  alone,  put  a  different 
construction  upon  the  single  fact  on  which  she  based  this 
belief. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  Catherine  is  right  in  say- 
ing that  her  mother  never  left  the  house  alone,"  he  told 
them  ;  "  but  at  the  same  time  I  feel  sure  that  she  was 
drowned,  and  from  my  knowledge  of  that  accursed  band  of 
murderers  I  am  equally  certain  that  she  did  not  drown 
herself. ' ' 

This  was  only  putting  into  words  the  suspicion  that  both 
the  brothers  had  begun  to  entertain  ;  but  even  if  they  had 
positive  proof  that  their  mother  died  by  violence,  it  would 
be  worse  than  useless  to  attempt  to  bring  her  murderers  to 
justice.  The  Mormon  Prophet,  secure  in  his  mountain  re- 
treat, was  able  to  defy  the  law,  and  crimes  committed  by 
his  orders  would  never  be  inquired  into,  much  less  pun- 
ished. Kenyon  could  tell  them  of  more  than  one  deed  of 
blood  done  in  open  day,  and  boasted  of  as  a  meritorious 
act,  and  the  air  of  the  valley  was  rife  with  secret  whispers 
of  other  deeds  that  could  not  be  so  much  as  named  among 
civilized  beings. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

PRAYER  AND   SACRIFICE. 

In  all  outward  things  Philip  La  Tour  continued  to  pros- 
per. His  business  increased,  he  built  a  new  and  handsome 
house,  and  filled  it  with  the  best  furniture  that  the  valley 
afforded  ;  his  fair  wife  was  daintily  clad,  and  many  a  poor 
neighbor  blessed  both  for  the  bounty  that  was  freely  be- 
stowed ;  but  in  spite  of  all  this  neither  wore  a  look  of  per- 
fect contentment. 

It  was  now  three  years  since  the  little  daughter  left 
them,  and  no  other  child  had  been  given  them  to  brighten 
their  home.  No  one  but  a  mother  who  has  seen  her  baby 
carried  out  of  the  door  for  the  last  time  could  understand 
how  Jessie  longed  to  see  a  little  sleeping  head  upon  the 
cradle  pillow,  or  how  she  woke  in  the  night  from  a  dream 
of  her  lost  darlings  and  wept  because  her  arms  were 
empty,  because  there  was  no  baby  at  her  breast. 

And  alas  !  Jessie  now  had  sorrows  which  bereaved 
mothers  elsewhere  know  nothing  of.  Because  she  was 
childless  her  husband  was  "  counseled"  to  take  another 
wife,  and  often  this  counsel  was  given  in  her  presence,  and 
she  was  sharply  reproved  for  resisting  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  by  withholding  her  consent.  It  is  but  justice  to 
Philip  to  say  that  he  did  what  he  could  to  shield  her  from 
these  coarse  rebukes,  and  that  he  assured  her,  with  an  air 
of  sincerity  which  satisfied  her,  that  nothing  could  induce 
him  to  do  what  his  brethren  all  around  him  were  doing. 
And  yet  Jessie  knew  that  he  accepted  the  doctrine  of  poly- 
gamy—that he  believed  it  was  enjoined  by  a  revelation  from 
heaven.     Only  the  infatuation  of  a  blind  love  could  bring 


176  THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

any  feeling  of  security  to  the  wife  of  a  man  who  held  such 
a  belief. 

Jessie  knew  that  her  husband  was  sincere  in  his  accept- 
ance of  the  Latter  Day  Gospel,  and  that  in  theory  he  did 
not  reject  even  the  doctrine  of  Blood  Atonement,*  which 
was  preached  openly  and  practiced  year  after  year  without 
let  or  hindrance.  It  is  true  that  he  was  not  selected  as  an 
actor  in  any  of  the  bloody  tragedies  that  occurred  on  every 
hand.  The  Prophet  chose  his  instruments  wisely,  and  he 
knew  Philip  well  enough  to  be  aware  that  he  would  be 
quite  useless  in  the  role  of  assassin,  and  moreover  that  the 
actual  sight  of  the  taking  off  of  a  Gentile  or  apostate  would 
be  apt  to  destroy  his  faith,  not  only  in  the  doctrine  of  blood 
atonement,  but  in  the  divinity  of  the  Mormon  system  as  a 
whole. 

The  band  of  cut-throats  who  stood  ready  at  all  times  to 
do  the  Prophet's  bidding  were  men  of  quite  a  different 
stamp — men  who  were  villains  by  nature,  and  who  did  not 
need  the  impulse  of  fanaticism  to  bring  them  to  the  point 
of  shedding  blood. 

And  yet  these  men  were  Philip  La  Tour's  brethren. 
He  joined  with  them  in  prayer.  He  invited  them  to  his 
house,  and  they  sat  at  the  table  with  him  and  his  refined 
and  gentle  wife.  They  filled  offices  of  trust  and  authority. 
Some  were  members  of  the  Territorial  Legislature,  others 
were  judges  of  the  probate  courts  or  mayors  of  cities,  but 
ever}'  one  of  them  had  blood  on  his  hands  ;  every  one  of 
them  had  been  engaged  in  deeds  of  darkness  for  which 
devils  might  blush. f 

It  happened  one  day  that  Philip  brought  home  two  of 
these  men  to  dinner.  Jessie,  who  always  shrank  from  meet- 
ing them,  pleaded  a  headache,  and  did  not  appear  at  the 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  K,  page  345.    t  See  Appendix,  Note  L,  page  347. 


PRAYER  AND   SACRIFICE.  1 77 

table  ;  but  her  own  room  adjoined  the  dining-room,  and  as 
the  door  was  slightly  ajar,  every  word  of  their  conversation 
was  distinctly  audible  to  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  think,  Brother  La  Tour,"  said  one  of  the 
men,  "  that  we  ought  to  have  accepted  of  this  Governor 
they  sent  us  from  Washington,  instead  of  driving  him  out 
of  the  Territory." 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  "  we  were  not  obliged  to  accept 
of  him  ;  but  still  we  had  no  right  to  mob  him.  There  are 
more  dignified  and  reasonable  ways  of  dealing  with  an  un- 
welcome official." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  That  is  good.  Just  hear  him.  Brother 
Grove.  Dignified  and  reasonable  !  Don't  you  wish  he 
could  have  seen  the  boys  laying  on  their  ox-whips  ?  I  tell 
you  the  Governor  took  some  dignified  steps  before  they  got 
through  with  him  ;  and  I  guess  they  reasoned  with  him  in 
a  way  that  he  could  understand." 

Brother  Grove  did  not  appear  to  share  his  companion's 
mirth. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  about,"  he  growled. 
"  That  job  was  managed  just  as  I  knew  it  would  be  when  it 
was  left  to  boys.  The  fellow  got  away,  and  now  we  must 
expect  to  take  the  consequences  of  the  stir  he  will  make  in 
the  States  about  his  treatment  here." 

"  And  you  are  really  afraid  that  President  Young  don't 
know  how  to  turn  that  very  thing  to  our  advantage  ? 
Brother  Grove,  I  gave  you  credit  for  more  sense.  Who  is 
going  to  prove  that  the  boys  were  counseled  to  do  the  work  ? 
It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  fasten  the  responsi- 
bility on  them,  denounce  them  publicly  for  it,  and  have 
them  arrested.  That  will  quiet  all  feeling  in  the  States, 
and  put  President  Young  before  the  people  there  in  the 
light  of  a  man  determined  to  punish  such  an  outrage  on  a 
Government  official." 


178         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  Brother  Grove  responded,  "  if  the 
boys  don't  tell  their  own  story  and  put  the  responsibility 
where  it  belongs." 

"  Never  you  fear.  Brother  Grove.  The  boys  won't  tell 
anything,"  *  and  the  Danite,  who  was  also  a  member  of 
the  Territorial  Legislature,  drew  his  hand  across  his  throat 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  fairly  diabolical. 

He  sat  facing  the  bedroom  door,  and  Jessie  not  only 
heard  him  but  saw  the  look.  She  turned  cold  from  head 
to  foot.  What  if  she  should  be  suspected  of  listening  to 
this  murderous  revelation  ?  Her  husband  rose  and  moved 
toward  the  door.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  feigned  sleep, 
trembling  in  every  limb.  He  came  into  the  room,  took  a 
paper  from  his  desk,  glanced  toward  the  bed,  and  went 
out,  shutting  the  door  after  him.  She  listened  again,  with 
senses  pretematurally  sharpened,  and  heard  him  say, 

"  Here  are  the  names  that  I  promised  to  give  you." 

Did  that  refer  to  the  subject  which  had  been  talked  over, 
or  was  he  only  trying  to  turn  the  conversation  into  a  less 
dangerous  channel  ? 

What  she  had  heard  already  she  understood  only  too 
well.  The  instruments  of  the  Prophet's  vengeance  were  to 
be  "taken  care  of,"  partly  to  punish  them  for  failing  in 
their  mission,  and  partly  to  insure  silence  with  regard  to 
the  high-handed  outrage  which  the  Church  had  authorized. 

Was  Philip  a  murderer  too  ?  No,  she  could  not  believe 
that ;  she  would  not  wrong  him  by  harboring  the  thought 
for  a  moment.  And  yet,  were  they  not  all  in  some  way 
responsible  for  crimes  which  were  the  legitimate  fruits  of 
the  doctrines  they  professed  to  believe  ?  The  fearful  oaths 
of  the  Endowment  House  yet  rang  in  her  ears — oaths  by 
which  she,  with  the  others,  was  supposed  to  be  bound. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  M,  page  348. 


PRAYER  AND   SACRIFICE.  ijg 

"  And  I  am  one  of  them — one  of  this  band  of  assassins," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  Oh,  God,  my  father's  God,  if  thou 
yet  livest,  make  some  way  of  escape  for  me." 

IVas  there  any  God  ?  Every  crime  committed  here, 
every  deed  of  blood  that  tainted  the  air  and  stained  the 
earth  was  said  to  be  divinely  ordered,  and  the  Bible  that 
she  learned  to  read  at  her  dead  mother's  knee  was  quoted 
daily  to  justify  treachery,  rapine,  and  murder.  She  knew  that 
the  assassins,  who  were  even  now  sitting  at  her  own  table, 
would  kneel  in  prayer  before  going  out  to  arrange  the  de- 
tails of  the  crime  they  were  to  commit.  She  knew  that  a 
"  prayer-circle"  had  preceded  one  wholesale  slaughter  of 
men,  women,  and  children,  and  that  red-handed  murderers 
wiped  their  bloody  knives,  and  said  as  they  looked  upon 
their  expiring  victims, 

"  Oh,  Lord,  receive  their  spirits,  for  it  is  for  thy  sake  we 
do  this."* 

Strange  indeed  that  such  a  faith  should  retain  any  hold 
upon  sane  minds,  and  yet  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures, 
often  misquoted  it  is  true,  and  always  perverted,  were 
made  the  standard  by  which  these  acts  were  tried,  and  those 
who  sickened  at  the  knowledge  of  the  crimes  committed  in 
the  name  of  religion  said, 

"  If  we  give  up  Mormonism  we  must  also  give  up  the 
Bible." 

Jessie  knew  that  her  husband  shared  this  feeling,  and 
that  he  dared  not  appeal  to  his  own  conscience  or  to  the 
customs  of  the  Christian  world  in  deciding  the  question  of 
right  or  wrong.     He  had  not  yet  begun  to  ask, 

"  Is  there  any  God  ?"  and  Jessie  shuddered  at  her  own 
thoughts  as  she  found  them  taking  the  form  of  this  ques- 
tion. 

*  A  fact  established  by  the  testimony  of  responsible  witnesses  in 
open  court. 


l8o         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  almost  aloud,  "  there  is  a  God,  and  he 
does  not  justify  murder.  I  know  the  Scriptures  do  not 
mean  what  they  would  have  us  believe  here.  The  Bible 
never  bore  any  such  fruits  elsewhere." 

There  was  so  much  comfort  in  this  thought  that  she  de- 
termined to  speak  of  it  to  her  husband,  carefully  conceal- 
ing, however,  her  knowledge  of  the  conversation  at  table. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  the  unwelcome  guests  took 
their  departure,  and  Philip  came  in  to  see  if  she  was 
awake. 

"  Have  you  rested,  love,"  he  asked,  in  the  tender  tone  he 
always  used  toward  her. 

**  Rested  enough  to  feel  a  little  better,"  she  answered, 
detecting  his  ill-concealed  anxiety  to  know  whether  she  had 
really  slept  while  his  guests  were  in  the  house. 

*'  I  was  afraid  we  might  disturb  you,"  he  continued, 
looking  relieved,  "  and  I  am  glad  you  are  better,  because  I 
must  go  away  this  afternoon,  and  I  may  not  be  back  for  a 
couple  of  days. 

Her  fears  instantly  put  a  construction  upon  this  state- 
ment which  almost  broke  down  her  self-control  ;  but  calm- 
ing herself  by  a  great  effort  she  asked  him  where  he  was 
going. 

"  Only  to  Ogden  on  a  little  business, "he  answered  ;  but 
though  she  had  never  doubted  his  word  before,  she  did  not 
believe  him  now. 

The  wretches  who  had  just  left  the  house  had  brought 
him  some  order  which  he  dared  not  disobey — she  was  sure 
of  that — and  he  was  going  to  execute  it.  And  yet,  even  if 
he  was  to  be  sent  out  to  commit  a  crime  like  that  named  in 
her  hearing  a  little  while  ago,  she  must  be  silent. 

Can  happier  women  in  Christian  lands  understand  the 
tortures  which  this  wife  endured  while  her  husband  was 
absent  on  his  unknown  errand  ?    Can  they  conceive  the 


PRAYER  AND   SACRIFICE.  i8i 

feelings  of  other  wives  (and  there  are  scores  of  such  in 
Utah;  whose  husbands  were  called  from  their  beds  at 
midnight  to  aid  in  some  deed  of  darkness,  returning  home 
in  time  to  change  their  blood-stained  garments  before  the 
day  broke  ?" 

Many  a  woman  is  to-day  dragging  out  the  remnant  of  a 
miserable  life,  carrying  always  the  burden  of  a  terrible 
secret,  the  disclosure  of  which  would  cost  the  life  of  one 
she  loves.  Many  another  woman  has  sunk  into  an  untime- 
ly grave  because  not  strong  enough  to  bear  the  knowledge 
of  her  husband's  crimes. 

And  this  is  not  all.  The  men  who  have  imbrued  their 
hands  in  blood  in  obedience  to  counsel  have  found  nothing 
in  their  religion  to  quench  the  fires  of  remorse  or  banish 
the  torturing  visions  called  up  by  memory  ;  and  while  some 
have  been  driven  to  madness,  others  have  ended  their  lives 
by  their  own  hands,  and  taken  a  fearful  leap  into  the  dark 
in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  forgetfulness  beyond  death. 

Philip  La  Tour,  as  we  have  said,  was  a  man  altogether 
unlikely  to  be  chosen  by  the  Prophet  as  an  executioner,  and 
he  was  not  now  ordered  to  undertake  anything  that  in- 
volved bloodshed.  Two  men  who  had  become  dissatisfied 
with  Mormonism  were  preparing  to  leave  the  Territory 
secretly  with  their  families,  and  as  they  occupied  farms  at 
some  distance  from  the  settlements,  and  upon  the  northern 
route  to  California,  they  thought  they  had  a  fair  prospect 
of  succeeding  where  others  had  failed. 

They  could  not  sell  their  farms  or  take  their  stock  or 
household  goods  with  them.  All  that  they  owned,  with 
the  exception  of  a  light  load  for  each  wagon,  must  be  left 
behind  ;  but  this  was  a  small  price  to  pay  for  freedom.  As 
they  had  no  near  neighbors,  they  hoped  to  t)e  able  to 
get  two  or  three  days'  start  before  their  absence  was  dis- 
covered, and  with  good  teams  they  could  then  distance 


1 82         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUIL 

their  pursuers.     It  was  a  vain  hope,   as   the  sequel  will 
show. 

Months  before,  some  unguarded  expressions  had  betrayed 
the  weakness  of  their  faith  in  the  Prophet,  and  from  that 
time  they  had  been  closely  watched.  Now  the  details  of  their 
intended  flight  were  almost  as  well  known  to  the  Danites  as 
to  themselves,  and  the  plan  that  was  laid  to  intercept  them 
was  one  that  did  credit  to  the  peculiar  genius  of  the  indi- 
vidual who  had  the  matter  in  charge. 

As  soon  as  the  exact  time  of  their  departure  and  their 
intended  route  became  known,  it  was  arranged  that  a  dozen 
armed  men  should  lie  in  wait  for  them  about  ten  miles  out. 

The  fugitives  started  soon  after  dark,  intending  to  make 
about  twenty-five  miles  before  daylight.  It  was  now  No- 
vember, and  the  length  of  the  nights  favored  them.  They 
thought  that  the  weather  favored  them  also,  for  a  storm 
was  raging  which  no  one  would  be  likely  to  brave  except 
on  an  errand  as  urgent  as  their  own.  They  had  bidden 
good-by  cheerfully  to  the  homes  they  had  reared,  and 
turned  their  faces  westward  with  unabated  courage,  for 
was  not  freedom  just  ahead  ?  Full  of  this  thought,  the 
men  urged  their  teams  forward  as  rapidly  as  the  darkness 
would  permit.  They  knew  every  foot  of  the  way,  and  their 
horses  knew  it  also. 

They  were  not  in  the  least  likely  to  meet  other  travelers  ; 
one  of  the  drivers  was  just  giving  expression  to  this  thought 
when  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard,  and  a  bullet 
whizzed  past  the  horses'  heads,  followed  by  the  command 
"  Halt !"  spoken  in  stentorian  tones. 

It  was  not  an  order  to  be  disregarded  when  backed  up 
by  a  dozen  guns,  and  the  teams  were  stopped. 

The  only  men  in  the  wagons  were  the  two  who  were 
driving.  The  remainder  of  the  party  were  women  and 
children.    Their  captors  surrounded  them  and    ordered 


PRAYER  AND   SACRIFICE.  183 

them  roughly  to  get  down.  The  men  obeyed  in  silence. 
Then  the  women  and  children,  who  were  sheltered  by  the 
canvas  covers  of  the  wagons,  were  compelled  to  get  out  and 
stand  by  the  roadside  in  the  storm. 

"  Very  sorry  to  discommode  you,"  said  the  Danite  cap- 
tain, who  was  no  other  than  the  facetious  member  of  the 
Legislature  who  had  dined  the  day  before  at  La  Tour's  ; 
"  but  we  are  obliged  to  borrow  your  teams  ;  hope  it  won't 
fatigue  you  much  to  make  the  rest  of  the  journey  on  foot. 
Good  night."  And  before  the  astounded  fugitives  could 
comprehend  the  situation  two  of  the  horsemen  who  had 
intercepted  them  jumped  into  the  wagons  and  drove  off  at 
a  rapid  rate  in  the  direction  in  which  they  had  come,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others.  The  little  party,  left  standing  in  a 
pelting  storm  in  the  middle  of  a  dark  November  night,  had 
no  alternative  but  to  retrace  their  steps.  The  children 
were  small — each  of  the  women  had  a  babe  only  a  few 
months  old — and  they  would  perish  before  many  hours  un- 
less they  could  reach  shelter. 

There  was  no  house  nearer  than  their  own,  and  had 
there  been,  no  door  would  open  to  apostates  ;  so  with 
heavy  hearts  they  turned  their  faces  homeward,  and  a  little 
after  daylight  reached  the  place  they  had  left  with  such 
different  feelings  the  evening  before. 

They  found  no  traces  of  their  teams  or  wagons.  These 
were  the  legitimate  prey  of  their  captors,  some  of  whom 
found  much  amusement  afterward  in  calling  upon  their  vic- 
tims, clad  in  the  coats  which  formed  part  of  the  spoils  taken 
with  the  wagons. 

Was  Philip  La  Tour  a  willing  participator  in  this  out- 
rage ? 

This  question  might  be  answered  in  two  ways.  When 
he  was  told  that  his  help  was  required  to  keep  a  couple  of 
men,  who  had  grown  weak  in  the  faith,  from  leaving  the 


l84        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Territory,  he  consented  readily,  for  he  was  still  fanatical 
enough  to  believe  that  there  was  no  salvation  for  one  who 
apostatized  and  forsook  Zion. 

At  starting  he  knew  nothing  of  the  plans  of  the  captain, 
and  when  he  found  that  the  women  and  children  were  to 
be  left  on  the  road,  exposed  to  the  storm,  he  remonstrated 
earnestly,  but  with  no  effect  except  to  call  out  a  sharp  re- 
proof for  daring  to  oppose  a  measure  that  had  been  "  coun- 
seled." 

He  made  still  stronger  opposition  to  the  robbery  that 
was  included  in  their  arrangements,  but  was  told  that  after 
approving  the  undertaking  as  a  whole  it  did  not  become 
him  to  object  to  details. 

When  he  reached  home  he  found  his  wife  ill  from 
anxiety.  She  had  never  had  any  concealments  from  him 
before,  and  the  effort  she  made  to  hide  her  suspicions  and 
her  fears  was  too  much  for  her  strength.  It  was  useless, 
also  ;  for  in  spite  of  herself  she  betrayed  so  much  of  what 
she  felt  that  her  husband  easily  guessed  the  whole,  and 
finding  that  her  fears  pictured  something  much  darker  than 
the  affair  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  bethought  it  best 
to  tell  her  the  truth. 

♦  ***•»♦ 

Mormonism  blights  and  poisons  whatever  it  touches,  and 
no  one  who  receives  it  in  its  entirety  can  retain  either 
purity  or  integrity. 

Philip  La  Tour  had  theoretically  accepted  Mormonism 
as  a  whole,  but  practically  he  still  rejected  its  leading 
tenets.  Polygamy,  robbery,  and  murder  were  crimes  so 
foreign  to  his  nature  that  not  even  the  blindness  of  fanati- 
cism could  hide  their  repellant  features.  It  is  true  that  he 
listened  without  comment  while  the  leaders  of  the  people 
explained  that  polygamy  was  God's  plan  for  peopling  the 
earth  with  a  race  uncontaminated  by  the  vices  of  the  Gen- 


PRAYER  AND  SACRIFICE.  185 

tiles.  He  was  also  silent  when,  by  way  of  justifying  their 
own  deeds  of  violence,  they  quoted  Old  Testament  exam- 
ples of  the  slaughter  of  the  wicked  by  the  armies  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  spoiling  of  the  Gentiles  by  his  chosen  peo- 
ple ;  but  in  his  heart  he  was  deeply  thankful  that  he  was 
not  called  to  engage  in  such  a  work,  and  he  never  visited 
a  polygamous  family  without  contrasting  the  discord  and 
misery  he  witnessed  with  the  happiness  that  he  found  in 
his  own  home. 

As  for  Jessie,  the  little  faith  she  had  in  Mormonism  re- 
ceived its  death-blow  on  the  day  she  went  through 
the  Endowment  House,  but  for  her  husband's  sake 
more  than  for  her  own  she  kept  silent.  As  long  as 
her  home  was  not  invaded  by  polygamy,  and  her  hus- 
band's hands  were  unstained  by  blood,  she  would  endure 
all  things,  and  some  day  it  might  be  his  eyes  would 
be  opened  too.  If  she  had  been  older  and  wiser  she 
might  have  looked  forward  less  hopefully  to  the  future  ;  but 
she  had  been  married  when  little  more  than  a  child  to  the 
man  whose  image  filled  her  girlish  heart,  and  she  was  still 
so  young,  so  blindly  devoted  to  him,  and  so  sure  of  his 
love  and  loyalty,  that  the  possibility  of  his  becoming  in  all 
things  like  those  around  him  never  occurred  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  TEST  OF  LOYALTY. 

The  winter  of  '62-' 63  was  by  no  means  a  quiet  one  in 
the  Mormon  capital.  The  United  States  military  post  es- 
tablished the  previous  autumn  on  the  heights  above  the  city 
was  regarded  as  a  standing  menace  from  a  hated  foreign 
power.  The  new  Governor  sent  in  the  place  of  the  one 
driven  out  of  the  Territory  was  a  man  not  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  the  Federal  judges  appointed  at  the  same  time 
actually  had  the  temerity  to  talk  of  enforcing  the  laws  of 
the  United  States  in  the  dominions  of  the  Prophet.  It 
seemed  that  the  open  war  between  the  Saints  and  the  Gov- 
ernment which  had  been  inaugurated  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi was  about  to  be  renewed,  but  now  as  in  the  past 
Brigham  Young  proved  himself  more  than  a  match  for  his 
adversaries,  and  by  a  judicious  combination  of  force  and 
cunning  made  himself  master  of  the  situation.  Still,  it 
cannot  be  denied  that  the  troops  stationed  in  the  Territory, 
and  the  expressed  intention  of  the  Government  to  hold  the 
Saints  amenable  to  the  civil  law,  gave  him  much  uneasi- 
ness and  convinced  him  of  the  necessity  of  strengthening 
his  position  by  every  means  in  his  power. 

There  was  also  another  source  of  trouble  that  promised 
to  increase  year  by  year.  The  presence  of  the  troops  gave 
the  disaffected  courage  ;  and  as  seceders  from  the  Church 
whose  lives  were  manifestly  in  danger  were  allowed  to  take 
refuge  at  Camp  Douglas,  the  number  of  apostates  multi- 
plied without  any  corresponding  increase  in  the  instances 
of  blood  atonement. 


THE   TEST  OF  LOYALTY.  187 

It  had  always  been  the  Prophet's  policy  to  outlaw  his  fol- 
lowers, and  thus  prevent  the  possibility  of  their  return  to 
civilized  society.  This  policy  he  now  pursued  with  more 
intentness  than  ever  before,  and  those  who  were  unfitted 
by  nature  for  deeds  of  violence  were  compelled  to  take 
plural  wives,  in  the  face  of  a  recent  act  of  Congress  which 
was  designed  especially  to  reach  and  punish  such  offenses 
in  Utah. 

Philip  La  Tour  was  among  the  number  of  those  who  fell 
under  the  Prophet's  displeasure  on  account  of  his  refusal 
to  comply  with  what  the  Mormon  leaders  designated  as 
"  the  higher  law." 

He  had  no  leanings  toward  polygamy.  He  loved  his 
wife  devotedly,  and  his  home  was  the  dearest  spot  on  earth 
to  him — dearer  now  than  ever  ;  for  with  the  earliest  flowers 
of  spring  a  tiny  guest  had  come  under  their  roof — a  dark- 
eyed  baby-boy,  so  like  the  lost  first-born  that  it  seemed 
almost  as  though  he  had  returned  to  them. 

For  months  the  Prophet  counseled  Philip,  sometimes 
affectionately,  sometimes  sternly,  to  take  another  wife,  but 
in  vain.  At  last  when,  as  he  said  himself,  the  utmost  limit 
of  forbearance  had  been  reached,  he  summoned  his  diso- 
bedient follower  to  a  private  conference. 

It  was  evident  to  Philip  as  soon  as  he  faced  the  leader  of 
the  people  that  the  Prophet  was  very  angry — too  angry  in- 
deed to  waste  any  words — and  in  the  most  concise  terms 
possible  he  was  informed  that  he  would  be  allowed  just 
one  week  to  choose  whether  he  would  take  another  wife  or 
be  cut  off  from  the  Church  and  delivered  over  to  the  buffet- 
ings  of  Satan. 

Philip  sat  as  if  stunned.  To  be  cut  off  from  the  Church  1 
For  him  who  had  never  known  any  other  faith,  this  was 
equivalent  to  a  sentence  of  eternal  death.  And  then  he 
was  to  be  delivered  over  to  the  buffetings  of  Satan.     He 


1 88         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

knew  very  well  what  that  means.  His  property  and  his 
life  would  thenceforth  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  Danites — and 
their  tender  mercies  were  very  cruel. 

He  was  incapable  of  uttering  a  single  word  in  reply  to 
the  question  thrust  upon  him,  and  the  Prophet  continued  : 

"  I  know  what  is  keeping  you  back.  It  is  the  fear  of 
what  your  wife  will  say  or  do  ;  and  I  want  you  to  tell  her 
from  me,  that  the  judgments  of  God  have  rested  on  her 
these  many  years  because  of  her  rebellion  against  his  will. 
Every  child  that  has  been  given  her  has  been  taken  away 
again,  because  she  would  not  hearken  to  counsel  ;  and 
mark  my  words"— here  the  Prophet's  face  grew  terrible— 
*'  the  child  that  she  holds  in  her  arms  to-day  will  lie  in  the 
grave  a  month  hence  if  she  does  not  submit  to  the  law  that 
has  been  given  to  this  people." 

"  You  will  give  me  a  week  to  decide  ?" 

Philip  hardly  knew  his  own  voice  as  he  pronounced  the 
words. 

"  Yes,  just  one  week,  and  not  a  day  over.  You  may  go 
now  ;  I  have  said  all  that  I  had  to  say,"  and  with  a  look  on 
his  face  as  hard  and  cruel  as  when,  fifteen  years  before,  he 
gave  Madame  La  Tour  the  choice  of  alternatives  which 
brought  her  to  the  valley,  the  Prophet  pointed  to  the  door. 

Philip  groped  his  way  out  blindly.  The  sun  was  shin- 
ing, but  he  saw  nothing.  When  he  reached  the  street  he 
stopped  and  tried  to  think.  He  could  not  go  home — could 
not  face  Jessie,  who  sat  even  now  with  her  baby  in  her 
arms,  singing  a  soft  lullaby,  while  the  blue-veined  lids 
drooped  over  the  bright  eyes. 

The  baby  !  What  a  stab  went  through  his  heart  as  he 
recalled  the  Prophet's  words. 

Do  you,  whose  lot  has  been  cast  elsewhere,  scoff  at  him 
because  he  believed  what  had  been  said  to  him  ?  Remem- 
ber that  since  his  childhood  he  had  heard  nothing  except 


THE   TEST  OF  LOYALTY.  189 

Mormonism — that  all  his  life,  almost,  the  word  of  the 
Prophet  had  been,  to  him  and  all  around  him,  the  voice  of 
the  Almighty.  Remember  also  how  in  every  age  creeds 
which  have  been  handed  down  from  father  to  son  have 
dominated  the  intellect  and  the  will,  no  matter  how  false 
and  monstrous  they  may  have  been  in  themselves. 

Philip  La  Tour,  in  accepting  the  dictum  of  the  Mormon 
Prophet  as  absolute  truth,  did  only  what  you  and  I  have 
done  in  receiving  without  question  the  beliefs  which  our 
parents  bequeathed  us.  He  did  not  use  his  reason  in  the 
matter,  simply  because  he  regarded  everything  connected 
with  religion  as  above  the  domain  of  reason. 

He  was  called  now  to  pass  through  an  experience  more 
bitter  than  death  ;  but  if  the  call  was  indeed  from  above  he 
might  not  disregard  it. 

Was  it  true  that  the  judgments  of  God  had  rested  upon 
him  and  his  wife  because  of  their  disobedience  ?  Over  and 
over  he  asked  himself  this  question  during  the  wretched 
day  that  followed  his  interview  with  the  Prophet. 

Hour  after  hour  passed.  It  was  almost  night,  and  Jessie 
would  be  anxious  and  disturbed  if  he  stayed  away  longer,  so 
at  last  with  the  courage  of  desperation  he  turned  his  face 
homeward,  resolved  to  speak  out  at  once  and  come  to  a 
decision  before  another  sun  rose. 

"  Poor  Jessie  !  Was  it  for  this  I  won  your  heart  ?"  he 
said  to  himself  as  he  came  in  sight  of  his  own  house. 

His  wife  was  at  the  door,  holding  up  the  baby  to  wel- 
come him.  Both  faces  were  bright  with  smiles,  and  one 
was  as  unconscious  as  the  other  of  coming  evil. 

"  How  can  I  ever  tell  her  ?"  he  thought,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment a  wild  wish  to  seize  wife  and  child  and  fly  far  from 
the  cruel  fate  that  threatened  them  all  possessed  him,  but 
only  for  a  moment. 

"  I  cannot  fiy  from  God." 


190        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR, 

This  was  his  next  thought,  and  the  Deity  of  the  Mormon 
faith — remorseless,  cruel,  unrelenting — seemed  to  his  ex- 
cited imagination  to  stand  in  the  way  with  a  drawn  sword, 
barring  all  escape  and  driving  him  forward  to  the  destiny 
he  dreaded. 

"  Philip,  what  is  the  matter  ?     You  are  surely  ill." 

It  was  the  sweet  voice  of  his  wife  that  fell  on  his  ear,  but 
the  words  smote  him  like  a  blow.  How  could  he  bear  her 
tenderness,  her  wifely  solicitude,  when  he  was  about  to 
strike  her  to  the  heart  ? 

With  a  mighty  effort  he  controlled  face  and  voice,  and 
answered  her  calmly.  She  must  not  suspect  anything  yet. 
Let  her  have  another  happy  hour — the  last  she  would  ever 
know  on  earth. 

The  minutes  of  reprieve  which  the  wretched  man  had 
allowed  himself  flew  rapidly.  Supper  was  placed  on  the 
table,  and  he  went  through  the  form  of  eating  and  drinking. 
Then  baby  was  rocked  to  sleep  and  tucked  in  his  downy 
nest  for  the  night. 

His  wife  came  and  seated  herself  on  his  knee,  asking 
again  if  he  was  ill.  For  a  minute  he  strained  her  to  his 
heart,  covering  her  face  with  passionate  kisses  ;  then  put- 
ting her  away  from  him  and  pointing  to  a  chair,  he  said,  in 
a  strange,  hoarse  voice, 

"  Sit  down,  Jessie.     I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

She  obeyed,  with  an  amazed  look  on  her  sweet  face,  and 
yet  as  plainly  unconscious  of  the  blow  that  awaited  her  as 
a  lamb  of  the  uplifted  knife. 

Twice  her  husband  essayed  to  speak,  but  his  voice 
failed  him.  At  last,  summoning  all  his  strength,  he  be- 
gan : 

"Jessie,  President  Young  sent  for  me  to-day  to  tell  me 
that  he  had  already  borne  too  long  with  my  disobedience 
to  counsel,  and  that  I  must  now  take  another  wife  or  be 


THE    TEST  OF  LOYALTY.  191 

cut  off  from  the  Church,  and — he  has  given  me  one  week 
in  which  to  decide." 

Jessie's  cheek  blanched,  and  for  a  moment  she  could  not 
reply  ;  but  composing  herself  directly  she  spoke  bravely, 

"If  we  are  cut  off  from  the  Church  they  cannot  harm 
us.  We  can  go  to  Camp  Douglas,  as  others  have  done, 
and  we  will  be  safe  there  ;  though,  of  course,"  glancing 
around  the  pleasant  room,  "  we  shall  lose  the  house,  and  I 
suppose  the  store  too,  but  we  shall  he  free,  and  we  shall 
have  each  other  and  our  child." 

As  she  finished  speaking  her  eyes  kindled,  and  the  color 
came  back  to  her  face.  How  sweet  liberty  would  be  after 
all  these  years  of  bondage  ! 

Her  husband  perceived  her  thought.  He  saw,  too,  that 
she  had  not  even  glanced  at  the  alternative.  How  should 
he  go  on  ?  What  could  he  say  to  make  her  share  his  own 
dread  of  bringing  down  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  upon 
them  all  by  continued  disobedience  to  a  divine  law  ? 

"  Jessie,  you  do  not  understand  me,"  he  said  desperate- 
ly. "I  am  not  afraid  of  them  that  can  only  kill  the  body, 
but  I  fear  Him  who  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body 
in  hell." 

"Philip,  you  do  not  mean — you  cannot  mean  that — " 
Speech  failed,  and  the  unhappy  wife,  upon  whom  a  possi- 
bility which  she  had  never  before  contemplated  dawned  at 
last,  could  only  clasp  her  hands  in  mute  appeal. 

"  I  mean  that  I  fear  we  may  be  fighting  against  God. 
President  Young  says  our  children  have  been  taken  be- 
cause we  have  been  disobedient,  and  if  we  continue  to  re- 
bel our  baby  will  be  laid  beside  the  others  before  another 
month." 

"  And  you  believe  that  ?" 

"  God  speaks  to  us  by  the  voice  of  his  Prophet.  I  must 
believe.     If  I  doubt  one  word  I  must  give  up  all." 


igi         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

**  Give  up  all  then.  Oh,  Philip,  this  religion  is  false — 
as  false  as  it  is  cruel.  It  yields  nothing  but  discord,  and 
misery,  and  wickedness.  Look  at  the  families  where  they 
say  they  have  obeyed  the  law  of  God  !  The  wife,  if  she  is 
not  changed  into  a  fury,  is  dying  of  a  broken  heart ;  the 
other  women  pass  their  lives  in  the  midst  of  strife  and 
jealousy  that  kills  all  the  good  in  them.  And  then  the 
children  !  I  had  far  rather  bury  my  baby  to-morrow  than 
have  him  grow  up  like  them." 

"  Jessie,  wife,  hear  me.  If  God  commands  a  thing,  we 
must  not  question  his  wisdom.  We  must  look  beyond  the 
present  for  results.  He  knows  that  it  will  cost  me  more 
than  life  to  obey  him  in  this  thing,  and  he  would  not  re- 
quire such  a  sacrifice  of  me  if  no  good  could  come  of  it." 

"  Philip  !"  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  before  him. 
"  Answer  me  plainly,  and  at  once.  Do  you  believe  that 
God  requires  _y<7«  to  take  another  wife  ?" 

"  Jessie,  have  a  little  pity  on  me.  That  is  the  question  I 
am  trying  to  decide.  I  have  been  trying  all  day.  I  dared 
not  come  home.  I  could  not  face  you  ;  and  I  feel  now  as 
though  I  were  going  mad." 

The  stern  look  faded  from  her  face,  and  the  fire  in  her 
eyes  softened.     She  was  again  the  tender,  loyal  wife. 

"  Forgive  me,  love,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his 
bowed  head.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  make  the  trial  harder 
for  you. ' ' 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  the  struggle,  which  did  not 
end  with  the  night,  but  lasted  throughout  the  week.  The 
result  was  what  might  have  been  foreseen.  Fanaticism 
triumphed  over  nature,  reason,  love — over  everything  that 
had  hitherto  saved  their  home  from  profanation,  and  when 
the  time  arrived  for  making  his  decision  known  to  the 
Prophet,  Philip  said, 

"  I  will  obey." 


THE    TEST  OF  LOYALTY.  193 

Jessie  did  what  hundreds  of  wives  in  Utah  have  done — 
submitted  to  the  inevitable — and  after  the  first  day  said 
nothing  to  influence  her  husband's  decision.  She  had  lived 
too  long  in  the  midst  of  such  scenes  not  to  know  what  the 
end  would  be,  and  she  read  her  death-warrant  in  Philip's 
face  before  a  single  word  was  spoken  to  reveal  the  choice 
he  had  made. 

And  now  comes  the  strangest  phase  of  those  tragedies 
which  have  been  enacted  year  after  year,  ever  since  Mor- 
monism  raised  its  unclean  altars  in  Utah. 

Jessie  La  Tour  did  not  believe  in  the  divinity  of  the  sys- 
tem which  called  for  the  cruel  sacrifice  she  was  about  to 
make  ;  she  felt  as  she  had  said,  that  Mormonism  was  false 
to  the  core — a  foul  superstructure  of  tyranny  and  crime, 
resting  upon  a  foundation  of  lust  and  blood  ;  and  yet,  for 
her  husband' s  sake,  for  the  sake  of  the  man  she  had  wor- 
shiped with  a  blind  devotion  since  the  day  he  first  won 
her  girlish  heart,  she  consented  to  the  last,  the  most  bar- 
barous rite  enjoined  by  his  religion  (not  hers),  and  went 
with  him  to  the  Endowment  House  to  place  in  his  hand  the 
hand  of  the  bride  chosen  for  him  by  the  Prophet, 

Through  the  days  of  martyrdom  which  she  endured  be- 
fore the  fatal  time  arrived,  she  shed  no  tear,  made  no 
moan. 

Only  her  white  face  showed  what  she  suffered,  even  when 
the  new  bride's  relatives  came  to  the  house  to  talk  the  mat- 
ter over  with  her  husband,  and  the  Prophet  visited  them 
to  give  the  counsel  he  thought  they  needed. 

The  same  power  of  endurance  which  had  kept  her  alive 
during  that  fearful  winter  march,  while  strong  men 
dropped  dead  beside  her,  enabled  her  to  bury  her  anguish 
out  of  sight  and  sit  calmly  beside  the  grave  of  her  dead 
hopes. 

But  when  the  day  of  sacrifice  came,  and  she  walked  be- 


194         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

side  her  husband  to  the  Endowment  House,  she  felt  that 
she  must  speak  once,  or  die,  and  turning  her  pallid  face 
toward  him,  her  wild  eyes  glowing  like  coals  of  fire,  she 
said, 

"  Philip,  I  am  going  to  lie  to  you  and  lie  to  God  :  I  am 
going  to  perjure  myself  before  Heaven  ;  for  I  must  say  that 
I  consent  to  this  marriage,  when  I  had  rather  die  a  thou- 
sand deaths  than  have  it  take  place." 

"  Jessie,  God  knows  I  would  lay  down  my  life  to  spare 
you  this,"  was  the  only  reply  the  wretched  husband  could 
make,  and  pity  for  him  kept  her  silent. 

She  knew  something  of  the  terrible  battle  which  he  had 
fought  out  alone.  She  saw  its  marks  in  his  face,  which 
had  grown  old  and  haggard  ;  in  the  silver  threads  which 
had  begun  to  mingle  with  his  dark  locks. 

The  bitterness  which  filled  her  soul  was  not  against  him, 
but  against  the  man  who  had  commanded  this  sacrifice, 
against  the  religion  which  had  compelled  it. 

She  had  never  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  Endowment 
House  since  the  day  when  her  own  marriage  took  place  ; 
but  when  they  entered  the  sealing-room,  all  that  she  wit- 
nessed there  seven  years  before  came  back,  fresh  as  the 
events  of  yesterday.  She  saw  again  the  wife  with  the 
corpse-like  face  kneeling  beside  her  husband,  saw  her 
place  the  young  bride's  hand  in  his  ;  and  her  senses  reeled 
as  the  bride  of  to-day,  a  slender,  dark-eyed  girl  of  sixteen, 
took  her  place  at  the  same  altar. 

It  was  surely  a  hideous  dream,  from  which  she  would 
awake  by  and  by. 

Nothing  was  real,  not  even  the  face  and  voice  of  the  ty- 
rant who  had  brought  this  curse  upon  them,  and  who  now 
stood  before  her  asking, 

"  Are  you  willing  to  give  this  woman  to  your  husband  ?" 

No  sound  came  from  her  white  lips  in  reply.    She  did 


THE    TEST  OF  LOYALTY.  195 

not  even  incline  her  head  ;  and  when  the  command  was 
given  to  place  the  bride's  hand  in  that  of  her  husband,  she 
made  no  sign  that  she  heard  it.  There  v^zs  a  moment's 
pause,  and  then  the  Prophet  himself  joined  the  hands  of  the 
pair  before  him,  frowning  darkly  as  he  did  so,  and  the  cer- 
emony proceeded. 

There  were  a  few  witnesses  present,  and  among  them 
Philip's  sister  Blanche.  When  the  party  left  the  En- 
dowment House  Philip  accompanied  the  bride  to  her 
father's  house. 

Jessie  turned  from  the  door  alone.  She  was  conscious 
of  nothing  but  a  dumb  longing  to  fly  to  some  covert  where 
she  might  hide  her  misery  forever  from  mortal  eyes. 

The  unnatural  strength  which  had  sustained  her  through 
the  day  was  fast  failing,  and  before  she  had  gone  a  dozen 
steps  she  staggered,  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  Blanche, 
who  put  a  supporting  arm  around  her,  and  pressed  her 
hand  tenderly,  in  token  of  the  pity  that  she  dared  not  ex- 
press in  words. 

The  fate  which  was  her  sister's  to-day  might  overtake  her 
to-morrow.  Blanche  believed  Mormonism  to  be  true,  be- 
cause she  had  never  heard  of  any  other  religion,  but  her 
woman's  nature  rebelled  against  polygamy,  and  her  tender 
heart  bled  for  Jessie,  whose  silent  anguish  was  more  terri- 
ble to  witness  than  the  most  violent  demonstrations  of  suf- 
fering. She  longed  to  say  something  to  comfort  her,  and 
yet  she  felt  instinctively  that  for  sorrow  such  as  hers  there 
was  no  balm  and  no  healing. 

When  they  reached  the  door  of  the  house  that  now,  alas  ! 
was  no  longer  home,  Jessie  seemed  to  wake  slowly  as  from 
a  nightmare. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  said,  speaking  for  the  first 
time  ;  "  but  now  I  want  to  be  alone." 

"  I  know  it,"  and  the  sympathizing  eyes  filled  with  tears  ; 


196         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  but  I  may  come  to-morrow,  may  I  not  ?  and  to-night — • 
to-night  I  will  pray  for  you." 

"  Don't  pray  to  the  God  they  worship  there, ^'  and  Jessie 
pointed  with  a  trembling  hand  toward  the  building  they 
had  left. 

Blanche  could  not  reply.  She  could  only  kiss  the  white 
face,  while  her  own  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears,  and  turn 
away. 

Jessie,  left  alone,  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute  and  be- 
wildered. Why  had  she  come  here  ?  This  was  Philip's 
house,  and  Philip  was  the  husband  of  that  dark-eyed  girl. 
Would  he  bring  his  bride  here  to-morrow  ?  And  if  he  did, 
where  should  she  go  ?  She  looked  away  toward  the  dis- 
tant mountains. 

' '  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove  !  Then  would  I  fly 
away  and  be  at  rest." 

Where  had  she  heard  such  words  ?  She  put  her  hand 
to  her  forehead  and  tried  to  think.  It  was  in  her  home, 
the  dear  old  English  home,  whose  vine-covered  porch  she 
could  see  even  now.  Her  father  used  to  read  those  words. 
Did  he  know  now  how  his  child  longed  to  fly  far,  far  away 
from  this  valley  of  death  ? 

A  sound  broke  her  trance.  It  was  her  child's  cry,  and 
maternal  love,  stronger  than  death,  drew  her  toward  the 
cradle  in  which  she  had  left  her  sleeping  baby.  He  was 
awake  now,  and  reaching  out  his  tiny  hands  for  her.  She 
lifted  him  in  her  arms,  and  pressed  his  little  head  against 
her  bosom.  She  had  something  left  yet  to  live  for,  and 
somewhere  in  the  world  there  might  be  a  place  of  refuge 
for  her  and  her  baby  ;  or  if  not  in  the  world,  then  out  of  it. 
Maybe  God — the  God  her  mother  used  to  pray  to — would 
pity  them  and  take  them  both  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

PLURAL  BLESSEDNESS. 

"  Before  the  glass,  as  usual.  I  do  believe,  Ruth,  that 
you  are  vainer  than  ever." 

The  person  addressed  pirouetted  across  the  room,  shook 
her  ringlets,  smoothed  out  her  draperies,  and  settled  her- 
self gracefully  in  a  chair  before  replying. 

*'  Don't  be  cross,  Myra,  there's  a  dear.  I  have  to  take 
a  little  pains  with  my  looks  when  people  are  dropping  in 
almost  every  hour  in  the  day  '  to  see  the  bride.'  " 

"  The  bride  !  Oh,  yes  !  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  had  almost 
forgotten  that  your  honeymoon  is  not  over.  And  now,  see- 
ing that  we  are  alone,  tell  me :  is  it  a.  honeymoon  alto- 
gether ?' ' 

"  It  would  be,  only  for  one  thing.  Philip  is  just  as  sweet 
as  he  can  be,  but  then  he  is  so  awfully  religious.  You 
know  they  pretend  that  it  is  a  man's  religious  duty  to  treat 
all  his  wives  just  alike,  and  Philip  actually  believes  that ! 
The  first  week  after  we  were  married  he  stayed  here,  of 
course  ;  but  the  second  week  he  told  me  it  was  his  duty  to 
go  home — ^just  think  of  it — home — and  every  blessed  day  of 
that  week  he  stayed  with  his  first  wife.  Last  week  he 
was  here  again,  and  now  he  is  away.  That's  something 
that  I  didn't  bargain  for,  and  I  don't  mean  to  stand  it." 

"  I  confess  I  don't  quite  see  how  you  are  going  to  help 
yourself." 

"  Just  wait  a  little,  and  you  wit/  see.  How  is  it  in  other 
families  ?  Don't  the  last  wife  get  all  the  petting  and  all 
the  attention  ?    How  is  it  in  President  Young's  family  ? 


198         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

When  Emmeline  was  the  favorite,  you  know  he  stayed  with 
her  right  along  ;  and  now  since  he  has  taken  Amelia,  how 
many  times  do  suppose  he  has  spoken  to  any  of  his  other 
wives  ?" 

*•  Not  very  often,  perhaps  ;  but  with  you  the  question  is, 
not  what  other  men  do,  but  what  course  your  own  hus- 
band is  going  to  take." 

"  Oh,  I'll  manage  him,  never  you  fear.  By  the  way, 
how  ugly  his  first  wife  is  growing.  She  has  changed  so 
within  a  month  that  I  declare  when  I  met  her  on  the  street 
yesterday  I  hardly  knew  her  ;  and  I  suppose  now  she  will 
go  and  tell  Philip  that  I  wouldn't  speak  to  her — the  spite- 
ful thing !" 

"  You  ought  not  to  talk  in  that  way,  Ruth.  The  poor 
woman  sees  trouble  enough,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"Well,  I  can't  help  it,  and  I'm  sure  it  isn't  my  fault. 
If  she  didn't  want  Philip  to  marry  me,  why  did  she  give 
her  consent  1  People  ought  to  know  their  own  minds,  and 
not  agree  to  a  thing  one  day  and  make  a  fuss  about  it  the 
next.  And  if  she  is  growing  old  and  ugly,  I  am  not  to 
blame  for  that,  and  Philip  is  not  to  blame  either  for  want- 
ing a  wife  that  doesn't  look  like  a  grandmother." 

"  Ruth,  how  old  are  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  sixteen  next  birthday." 

"  My  poor  child  !     I  pity  you." 

"  Now,  Myra,  that  is  just  like  you — always  trying  to 
spoil  my  good  times.  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  why  I 
should  be  pitied,  unless  it  is  because  Philip  insists  on  tak- 
ing rooms  right  here  at  father's,  instead  of  giving  me  a 
house  of  my  own  ;  but  I'll  have  different  arrangements  in 
six  months,  as  you'll  see.  If  I  don't  manage  to  be  the  mis- 
tress of  his  new  house  by  that  time,  my  name  is  not  Ruth." 

"  Indeed  !    And  what  will  you  do  with  Jessie  ?" 

"  Oh,  she  can  have  the  old  house.     It's  comfortable 


PLURAL  BLESSEDNESS.  199 

enough,  and  she  don't  care  anything  about  style.  She 
looks  like  a  dowdy  lately.  Why,  the  dress  she  had  on  yes- 
terday was  a  perfect  fright." 

"  Perhaps  she  has  too  much  on  her  mind  just  now  to 
care  about  dress." 

'*  If  she  knows  anything  at  all,  she  ought  to  know  that 
dress  goes  a  great  ways  when  you  want  to  please  a  man. 
Last  week  when  Philip  came  over  here,  he  looked  as  if 
he'd  just  been  to  a  funeral — I  dare  say  Jessie  had  been 
giving  him  some  awful  lectures — but  I  had  studied  what 
to  do,  and  I  was  ready  to  meet  him.  I  had  the  new  silk 
he  gave  me  made  up  lovely,  and  I  wore  tea-rose  ribbons 
— just  my  color,  everybody  says — and  Jane  Taylor  came 
over  and  dressed  my  hair.  She  said  I  looked  like  a  picture, 
and  I  believe  Philip  thought  so  too,  for  he  brightened  up 
wonderfully  after  I  came  down  stairs." 

' '  Well,  Ruth,  I  am  sure  I  want  you  to  take  all  the  comfort 
you  can  ;  though,  if  I  were  you,  I  am  afraid  I  should  look 
forward  sometimes  to  the  day  when  I  would  be  obliged  to 
step  aside  and  give  place  to  some  one  else  ;  and  you  know 
you  have  just  said  it  is  the  last  wife  who  gets  all  the  atten- 
tion." 

"  Now,  Myra,  you  are  really  too  bad.  I  don't  think 
there  is  another  person  in  the  world  who  would  say  such 
things  to  me — and  in  my  honeymoon,  too." 

Here  an  embroidered  handkerchief  was  produced,  and 
the  bride  buried  her  pretty  face  in  its  folds. 

"Don't  cry,  Ruth.  I  did  not  mean  to  make  you  feel 
bad." 

The  face  came  up  again  from  its  hiding-place. 

"  I  won't  cry  and  spoil  my  eyes,  for  I  am  going  down 
to  the  store,  and  I  want  Philip  to  think  I  look  lovely.  I 
know  he'll  think  it,  though  he  won't  say  it— the  provok- 
ing man.     How  is  my  dress  ?    And  do  you  suppose  my 


260        THE  PATE  Of  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

hair  would  look  better  if  I  should  loop  these  curls  back- 
so  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Philip's  oldest  sister  ?  They 
say  she  was  so  lovely  that  she  couldn't  walk  the  street 
without  people  stopping  to  look  at  her.  Well,  Aunt  Mar- 
garet, who  used  to  know  her,  says  I  have  her  style  of 
beauty,  and  she  says,  too,  it's  my  own  fault  if  I  don't 
make  Philip  worship  me.  She  says  he's  worth  a  great 
deal  of  money  now,  and  making  more  every  year,  and  if  I 
manage  right  I  can  have  such  a  house  and  furniture  and 
such  dresses  as  I've  never  dreamed  of." 

"  If  those  things  will  make  you  happy,  I  hope  you  may 
get  them.  For  my  part,  if  I  ever  marry,  I  want  a  hus- 
band who  will  not  belong  to  any  one  but  me,  and  then  I 
think  I  could  be  contented  with  a  crust  of  bread." 

"  It's  no  wonder,  Myra,  that  you  are  an  old  maid,  with 
such  notions.  How  are  you  going  to  get  a  husband  who 
will  not  belong  to  any  one  else  ?  If  you  are  the  first  wife, 
you  will  never  know  what  day  your  husband  will  bring 
home  a  second.     Aunt  Margaret  said  to  me, 

"  '  Whatever  you  do,  don't  think  of  being  any  man's  first 
wife,  for  you  will  live  a  life  of  dread  before  he  takes  his 
second,  and  a  life  of  misery  afterward.'  Aunt  Margaret 
has  got  sense.  She's  a  fourth  wife.  She  is  petted,  and 
has  her  own  way  in  everything,  and  she  knows  her  hus- 
band won't  take  another  ;  but  her  sister,  who  is  a  first 
wife,  is  put  off  on  a  sage-brush  ranch,  and  don't  see  her 
husband  once  a  year." 

Do  any  of  our  readers  object  to  the  foregoing  style  of  con- 
versation ?  If  so,  we  beg  leave  to  remind  them  that  it  only 
exhibits  the  practical,  every-day  application  of  a  religious 
principle  which  our  Government  has  regarded  as  so  sa- 
cred that  for  many  years  it  has  been  an  effectual  shield 
from  the  penalties  of  a  law  which  is  openly  and  persist* 
ently  violated  by  a  whole  people. 


PluMal  blessedn£ss.  tat 

Ruth,  Philip  La  Tour's  new  bride,  was  a  fair  specimen 
of  the  girls  brought  up  in  Utah — no  better  and  no  worse 
than  the  majority  of  those  around  her.  She  believed  po- 
lygamy to  be  right  because  she  had  been  so  taught  from 
her  cradle,  and  she  regarded  her  own  marriage  as  legal 
and  binding  because  no  opinion  to  the  contrary  had  ever 
been  uttered  in  her  hearing.  If  any  one  had  intimated 
that  she  had  wronged  and  outraged  Philip's  wife  by  as- 
suming the  relation  to  him  which  she  now  held,  she  would 
have  lifted  up  her  pretty  hands  in  horror,  and  resented  the 
imputation  with  hot  words  and  angry  tears. 

It  is  true  that  she  was  shallow,  vain,  and  selfish  ;  but 
then  girls  of  that  description  may  be  found  outside  of 
Utah,  and  Mormonism  cannot  be  justly  charged  with  de- 
veloping traits  that  are  quite  as  common  among  the  ad- 
herents of  other  systems. 

She  really  thought  it  too  bad  that  she,  who  was  so  much 
younger  than  Jessie,  and  in  her  own  estimation  very 
much  prettier  also,  should  have  no  more  of  her  husband's 
society  than  the  first  wife  ;  and  it  was  an  unheard-of  thing 
that  a  bride  with  so  many  attractions  should  live  in  a 
couple  of  plainly  furnished  rooms,  while  the  woman  whom 
she  regarded  only  in  the  light  of  an  obstacle  to  her  com- 
plete triumph  had  a  handsome  house  all  to  herself. 

She  was  fully  resolved  not  to  submit  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment, and  in  the  end  she  had  her  way,  for  though  she  did 
not  succeed  in  turning  Jessie  out  of  doors,  she  tormented 
Philip  until,  glad  to  purchase  peace  at  any  price,  he 
bought  a  pretty  cottage  for  her,  and  fitted  it  up  with  the 
best  that  money  could  buy. 

In  other  things,  however,  she  found  that  her  influence 
over  the  man  she  called  husband  was  very  slight.  He 
still  continued  to  spend  every  alternate  week  with  his  first 
wife,  and  when  Ruth  ventured  to  speak  disrespectfully  of 


202         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

her  he  reproved  her  so  sharply  that  even  she  was  con- 
vinced it  would  not  be  safe  to  repeat  the  experiment. 

After  six  months  of  married  life,  the  opinions  so  confi- 
dently expressed  in  her  honeymoon  were  greatly  modified, 

"  Philip  cares  no  more  for  me  than  he  would  for  a  kit- 
ten," she  declared  petulantly.  "  If  I  talk  to  him  half  an 
hour  without  stopping  to  take  breath,  he  never  hears  one 
word.  Sometimes  he  doesn't  answer  me  at  all,  and  some- 
times he  asks,  '  What  did  you  say  ?  *  in  a  way  that  would 
provoke  an  angel.  I've  half  a  mind  to  ask  President 
Young  for  a  divorce." 

"  Why  don't  you  ?"  inquired  her  friend  Myra,  to  whom 
these  complaints  were  addressed. 

"  Well,  you  see,  with  all  his  faults,  Philip  isn't  a  bit 
mean  about  money.  I  don't  know  any  other  man  who 
would  be  likely  to  buy  me  such  a  house  as  this  ;  and  as  for 
dresses,  you  know  yourself  that  half  the  girls  in  the  city 
are  ready  to  die  with  envy  when  they  see  mine.  Then  be- 
sides— but  I  forgot :  I  haven't  showed  you  his  last  present." 

Ruth  tripped  into  the  next  room,  and  came  out  with  an 
inlaid  box  in  her  hands. 

"  He  gave  me  this  on  my  birthday,"  she  said,  opening 
it  and  displaying  a  gold  watch  and  chain  and  a  pair  of 
bracelets  of  elegant  workmanship. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  perfectly  lovely  in  your 
life  ?  I  showed  them  to  Milly  Allen  yesterday,  and  she 
looked  ready  to  cry.  She  was  married  the  same  week  I 
was,  and  she  is  wearing  her  old  things  yet,  and  has  to  live 
in  the  house  with  two  of  the  other  wives,  and  they  order 
her  around  as  if  she  was  a  little  girl  ;  but  then,  Milly 
never  did  have  any  spirit.  She  couldn't  speak  for  herself, 
no  matter  how  she  was  treated." 

"  Brother  Allen  treats  her  well  enough  himself,  does  he 
not  ?•• 


PLURAL  BLESSED^tESS.  2O3 

"  That  depends  on  what  you  call  good  treatment.  He 
isn't  cross  to  her,  but  he  tells  her  he  can't  afford  another 
house,  and  it's  no  use  talking  about  it.  You  see,  the 
trouble  is,  he  was  sealed  to  Milly  and  Sarah  Spencer  on 
the  same  day,  and  Sarah  happens  to  be  the  favorite.  She's 
got  a  place  of  her  own,  and  new  things,  and  he  spends 
half  his  time  with  her,  which  is  about  all  that  could  be  ex- 
pected of  a  man  with  six  wives." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  Milly,"  Myra  said.  "  She  used  to  be  a 
good  girl  when  I  knew  her,  and  she  deserves  a  good  hus- 
band." 

*'  Well,  I'm  sorry  for  her  too,  of  course  ;  but  she  ought 
to  have  had  more  sense.  When  a  man  marries  two  girls 
on  the  same  day,  one  of  them  is  going  to  be  neglected — 
anybody  knows  that.  I  told  Milly  how  it  would  be,  but 
she  didn't  believe  me." 

"  After  all,  Ruth,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  pretty  well 
satisfied.  You  have  a  fine  house,  fine  furniture,  and  fine 
clothes — things  you  have  always  wanted — and  your  hus- 
band spends  half  his  time  with  you.  What  more  can  you 
ask  ?" 

"  I  want  him  to  spend  more  than  half  his  time  with  me, 
and  to  act  as  if  he  cared  forme  ;"  and  then,  to  her  friend's 
surprise,  Ruth  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  began  to 
sob — not  angrily,  but  in  a  wretched,  heart-broken  way, 
that  brought  Myra  to  her  side  at  once,  and  caused  her  to 
put  her  arms  around  her  and  ask  tenderly, 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?" 

Ruth  lifted  her  head  and  dashed  away  her  tears. 

"  I'm  a  fool,  I  know,  to  feel  so,  but  I  can't  help  it,"  she 
said. 

"  Come  into  my  bedroom,  Myra.  I  haven't  told  a 
single  soul — not  even  mother — but  I'll  tell  you." 

Myra  followed  her  wgnderingly  into  the  next  room,  and 


204         THE  PATE   OF  MADAME   LA    TOUR. 

Ruth  closed  the  door  and  locked  it.  Then  opening  a 
drawer  she  took  out  a  pile  of  tiny  garments  and  spread 
them  on  the  bed. 

"Look  there!"  she  said.  "You  know  what  that 
means.  I  am  only  sixteen — sixteen  last  week — and  I  shall 
be  a  mother  in  three  months.  Philip  don't  care  for  me, 
and  he  won't  care  either  for  the  poor  little  baby,  that  isn't 
to  blame  for  anything,  if  I  am,"  and  again  Ruth  sobbed 
bitterly. 

Myra  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  she  had  seen  too  much  of 
polygamy  in  her  own  father's  house,  where  four  wives 
claimed  a  love  that  could  only  be  given  to  one,  to  be  able 
to  console  her  with  the  hope  that  she  might  yet  win  her 
husband's  heart. 

"  He  loves  that  baby  at  home — Jessie's  baby,"  Ruth 
said,  as  she  dried  her  tears.  "  He  had  it  down  to  the 
store  the  other  day,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  worshiped  it.  I 
heard  him  say,  too,  '  Papa's  only  comfort.'  Just  think  of 
that !  I  tell  you,  it  is  all  Jessie's  fault.  If  she  was  out  of 
the  way  I  believe  I  could  make  him  care  for  me,  but  as 
long  as  she  lives  he  will  love  her  best ;  and  I  hate  her — I 
hate  her." 

"  Hush,  Ruth  !  You  frighten  me.    It  is  wicked  to  feel  so." 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is.  I  think  it  is  a  shame  for  a  man  to 
take  a  girl  as  young  as  I  was  and  make  her  his  wife,  when 
ne  knows  she  will  be  miserable.  What  did  he  marry  me 
for  if  he  didn't  care  for  me  ?" 

"  I  suppose  he  thought,  as  they  all  say  they  think,  that 
it  was  a  religious  duty  to  take  another  wife." 

"  Bah  !  I  know  better.  I've  seen  too  much  at  home  to 
believe  that,  and  I  never  cared  anything  about  religion.  I 
just  wanted  to  have  nice  things  and  enjoy  myself,  and  I've 
never  hurt  anybody,  and  never  done  anything  to  deserve 
such  trouble  as  I  have  now." 


PLURAL  BLESSEDNESS.  «OS 

It  was  vain  to  attempt  to  convince  Ruth  that  she  was 
not  the  most  ill-used  of  wives. 

A  spoiled  child,  petted  and  indulged  from  infancy  by  a 
mother  who  had  been  forced  to  surrender  her  husband  to 
others,  and  who  had  nothing  left  to  live  for  except  this 
one  daughter,  she  had  grown  up  with  the  idea  that  her  in- 
terests, her  comfort,  and  her  happiness  should  be  consid- 
ered first,  last,  in  the  midst,  and  always. 

To  say  that  she  loved  Philip  would  be  overstating  the 
fact ;  but  she  liked  him,  wanted  him  to  admire  her  and  pet 
her,  wanted  to  be  first  in  his  regards  ;  and  now,  when  filled 
with  a  vague  dread  of  the  trial  that  she  must  pass  through, 
really  longed  for  some  token  of  sympathy  and  tenderness. 

Philip,  on  his  part,  regarded  her  as  a  pretty,  teasing 
child,  and  as  the  passing  months  made  him  better  ac- 
quainted with  her  faults,  he  found  the  weeks  that  he  was 
forced  to  spend  in  her  society  more  and  more  irksome.  It 
is  due  to  him  to  say,  however,  that  he  did  his  best  to  con- 
ceal this  feeling.  He  was  always  patient  and  gentle  with 
her,  gratified  her  whims,  bought  everything  for  her  that 
her  fancy  coveted,  and  was  considered  by  all  her  friends  a 
model  husband. 

Yet  to  Ruth,  who  in  spite  of  her  shallow  nature  had  a 
woman's  insight,  all  this  outward  kindness  was  a  very 
thin  mask,  which  failed  to  hide  his  real  feelings.  She 
knew  that  he  loved  Jessie,  and  would  never  love  her. 

Jessie  would  always  be  first,  and  Jessie's  child  would  be 
dear  to  the  father,  who  would  look  upon  her  child  with  as 
little  tenderness  as  he  felt  for  the  mother. 

When  these  unwelcome  truths  were  forced  upon  her, 
she  suffered  as  much  as  she  was  capable  of  suffering— not 
enough,  however,  to  altogether  destroy  her  pleasure  in  the 
new  dresses  and  trinkets  with  which  Philip  sought  to  buy 
immunity  from  the  hard  task  of  simulating  love.     .     .     , 


2o6         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  home  that  only  a  few  months  ago  was 
so  peaceful  and  happy,  an  evil  spirit  sat  enthroned.  The 
wife,  after  a  season  of  apathetic  despair,  woke  to  a  full 
sense  not  only  of  her  misery,  but  of  her  wrongs  ;  and  bitter 
jealousy  for  the  girl  who  stood  between  her  and  her  hus- 
band, and  hatred  of  the  tyrant  who  had  placed  her  there, 
seemed  to  change  her  whole  nature. 

She  would  not  feel  so— she  might  get  over  it  all  in  time, 
and  bury  the  memory  of  the  happy  past — so  she  told  her- 
self—if every  alternate  week  did  not  bring  Philip  back  to 
the  house  ;  if  she  did  not  see  his  face  and  hear  his  voice 
day  after  day,  knowing  all  the  time  that  the  tenderness 
which  he  tried  to  show  toward  her  would  be  lavished  on 
another  woman  next  week  ;  that  the  kisses  which  her  out- 
raged love  refused  would  be  given  to  that  dark-eyed  girl, 
whom  she  hated  with  a  vindictiveness  that  frightened  her 
when  she  stopped  to  reason  about  her  feelings. 

"  I  don't  wonder  they  say  that  a  wife  who  rebels  against 
polygamy  is  possessed  by  devils.  I  feel  as  though  I  had  a 
legion  of  them  in  my  heart." 

This  was  Jessie's  confession  to  Helen  Woodford,  who 
was  her  friend  as  she  had  been  the  friend  of  Philip's  mother 
years  ago. 

Mrs.  Woodford  was  now  fifty,  but  a  stranger  would 
have  thought  her  much  older.  Her  once  queenly  form 
was  bent  and  wasted,  her  face  deeply  gfraven  with  lines 
of  suffering,  and  her  hair  white  as  snow. 

In  reply  to  Jessie  she  said,  with  a  strange  far-away  look 
in  her  eyes, 

**  I  felt  just  as  you  do  once,  long  ago — it  seems  ages 
now — but  I  got  over  it." 

"  And  how  ?" 

"  By  outliving  my  love  for  my  husband.  As  long  as  I 
loved  him  I  suffered — suffered  the  torments  of  hell.     You 


PLURAL  BLESSEDNESS.  aoy 

know  the  house  in  which  he  used  to  keep  two  of  his  women 
— I  cannot  so  far  forget  what  is  due  to  myself  as  to  call 
them  wives.  At  night,  when  he  was  staying  there,  I  used 
to  walk  the  floor  of  the  room  until  it  seemed  that  I  must 
go  mad  unless  I  could  escape  from  the  place — from  every- 
thing. Then  I  would  rush  out  into  the  street  and  go  to 
that  house.  I  would  walk  round  and  round  it,  feeling  as 
though  I  could  tear  the  walls  down  with  my  bare  hands, 
growing  every  minute  more  like  one  possessed  with  devils, 
until  my  boy,  missing  me,  would  come  in  search  of  me 
and  lead  me  home."* 

"  I  know  how  you  felt."  Jessie's  eyes  gleamed,  and  she 
set  her  teeth,  and  breathed  hard.  "  I  am  glad  Philip  did 
not  bring  that  girl  into  my  house,  because — because  I 
should  have  killed  her." 

"  Ten  years  from  now  you  will  look  back  and  wonder 
that  you  ever  could  have  suffered  as  you  do  to-day  from 
such  a  cause.  I  wonder  at  myself — wonder  that  I  should 
have  prized  as  I  did  the  love  that  was  not  strong  enough 
to  shield  me  from  wrong  and  outrage — the  love  that  with- 
ered in  a  moment  before  the  word  of  the  man  they  call  the 
Prophet  of  the  Lord. 

"To-day  my  husband  is  nothing  to  me.  He  comes 
home  sometimes — I  believe  I  have  seen  him  twice  during 
the  past  year — but  his  coming  or  going  affects  me  no  more 
than  it  does  the  walls  of  the  house." 

"  /  shall  never  feel  so — never.  I  love  Philip  ;  I  shall 
love  him  till  I  die.  I  can't  help  it ;  I  try  to  shun  him — I  do 
speak  harshly  to  him  and  turn  away  from  him — and  all  the 
while  I  am  longing  to  throw  myself  into  his  arms  and  sob 
out  my  anguish  upon  his  breast,  as  I  used  to  do  in  every 
other  trouble." 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  N,  page  349. 


lo8         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  Poor  child."  The  older  woman  laid  her  hand  tender- 
ly on  the  bowed  head.  "Is  it  so  bad  as  that  ?  I  loved 
my  husband  too,  for  years  after  he  inflicted  an  irreparable 
wrong  upon  me,  but  from  the  hour  that  I  discovered  the 
truth  I  was  no  longer  his  wife.  I  would  not  permit  so 
much  as  the  clasp  of  his  hand— the  hand  he  had  given  to 
others.  But  in  one  sense  your  wrongs  were  less  than 
mine.  Your  husband  did  not  add  deceit  to  his  broken 
marriage  vows,  while  mine  lied  to  me  year  after  year — 
lived  in  adultery  with  the  women  his  Prophet  had  given  to 
him,  while  I  believed  myself  a  loved  and  honored  wife.  I 
could  forgive  anything  sooner  than  that." 

"  I  cannot  blame  Philip,  even  when  I  try  to,  for  I  know 
how  he  suffered.  I  know  what  agony  he  endured  before 
his  decision  was  made,  and  now  I  know  that  he  is  un- 
speakably wretched.  That  girl" — ^Jessie's  face  darkened 
as  she  pronounced  the  words — '*  torments  and  humiliates 
him  with  her  silliness,  her  petty  tyrannies,  and  her  odious 
temper,  until  he  would  be  glad  to  fly  anywhere  to  escape 
from  his  life  with  her  ;  and  yet,  according  to  his  ideas, 
she  is  a  wife,  and  he  is  bound  to  treat  her  as— as  he  used 
to  treat  me.  Then  when  his  week  with  her  is  ended  he 
comes  home  and  finds  me  cold,  or  sullen,  or  furious,  just 
as  the  evil  spirit  within  me  moves  me  to  be.  If  my  father 
could  come  back  from  the  dead  he  would  not  know  his 
child.    I  do  not  know  myself." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  DEAD  TELL  TALES. 

With  the  fall  emigration  of  1863  one  of  Jessie  La  Tour's 
old  schoolmates  came  to  the  valley  with  her  husband,  from 
England. 

She  was  a  fragile-looking  woman,  often  ill,  and  always 
homesick  for  her  own  country  and  the  friends  she  had  left. 
Like  many  others,  she  was  sadly  disappointed  when  she 
reached  the  "  Zion"  whose  glories  had  been  so  eloquently 
portrayed  by  the  missionary  who  induced  her  and  her  hus- 
band to  emigrate.  The  existence  of  polygamy  in  the  valley 
was  also  a  source  of  constant  terror  to  her,  and  she  impor- 
tuned her  husband  to  seek  protection  from  the  troops  and 
leave  the  Territory  ;  but  he  had  expended  most  of  the  money 
they  brought  with  them  in  the  purchase  of  a  house  and  lot, 
and  he  was  not  willing  to  sacrifice  his  property  for  the  sake 
of  getting  away. 

Jessie  went  often  to  see  this  old  friend,  Mrs.  Stanwix,  and 
did  her  best  to  put  aside  her  own  troubles  for  the  time  and 
devote  herself  to  the  task  of  cheering  and  encouraging  her. 

In  the  spring  her  own  affairs  kept  her  at  home  more,  and 
she  had  not  seen  her  friend  for  several  weeks  when  a  mes- 
sage came  one  evening  to  say  that  Mrs.  Stanwix  was  very 
ill  and  wished  her  to  stay  with  her  during  the  night. 

She  went  at  once,  and  on  reaching  the  room  in  which 
the  invalid  lay,  she  could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of 
astonishment  and  distress.  The  woman  looked  like  one  on 
the  brink  of  death.     Her  face,  always  pale,  was  ghastly, 


210         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

her  eyes  were  deeply  sunken,  and  her  thin  hands  were  cold 
and  clammy. 

"  Why  did  you  not  send  for  me  before  ?"  Jessie  said. 
"  If  I  had  known  how  ill  you  were,  I  would  have  come  any 
day  or  hour." 

"  My  husband  has  been  with  me,"  was  the  answer, 
"  but  to-night  he  was  obliged  to  go  away." 

Then  raising  her  voice  with  difficulty,  she  said  to  the  boy 
who  had  brought  the  message, 

"  You  can  go  home  now,  Edward.  This  lady  will  stay 
with  me  until  morning." 

The  boy  availed  himself  of  the  permission  at  once,  and  as 
soon  as  the  sound  of  his  retreating  footsteps  died  away, 
Mrs.  Stanwix  said,  in  a  hurried  whisper, 

"  Go  down  stairs,  lock  the  outside  doors,  fasten  all  the 
windows,  and  don't  leave  a  light  anywhere." 

Jessie  obeyed,  with  a  little  doubt  of  her  friend's  sanity, 
and  returned  to  the  room  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  Take  that  chair,"  the  sick  woman  said,  pointing  to  the 
one  beside  her  pillow. 

When  her  request  was  complied  with,  she  clasped  her 
friend's  hand  in  both  her  own. 

"  Thank  God  that  I  see  you  once  more — and  alone.  I 
thought  that  was  never  to  be,"  she  said. 

"  I  would  have  come  at  any  time,"  Jessie  replied,  as 
before. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,"  she  said.  "  They  were 
afraid  to  have  me  talk  with  anybody.  My  husband  has 
stayed  with  me  night  and  day  since  I  have  been  sick,  and 
this  morning,  when  he  had  to  go  away,  he  left  me  in 
Katrina's  care.  She  hardly  understands  a  dozen  English 
words,  he  knew  I  could  not  talk  to  her  j  but  to-night  she 
was  taken  sick  herself,  so  I  sent  the  boy  after  you,  and  told 
her  she  might  go  home." 


THE  DEAD  TELL  TALES.  211 

"  I  must  not  let  you  talk  too  much  either,"  Jessie  said. 
"  You  are  excited  now.     You  will  make  yourself  worse." 

"  No,  it  relieves  me  to  speak.  Wait  till  you  know  what 
has  brought  me  down  to  this  bed,  and  you  will  not  wonder 
that  silence  is  killing  me.  Give  me  a  little  of  that  cordial 
yonder,  and  let  me  rest  a  few  minutes.  Then  I  will  tell 
you." 

She  drank  the  cordial  and  lay  back  among  her  pillows, 
silent  and  exhausted.  Jessie  hoped  she  might  sleep,  but  her 
large  dark  eyes  remained  wide  open,  and  with  the  same 
wistful,  terrified  expression  in  them  that  at  first  made  her 
friend  fear  her  reason  was  going. 

After  half  an  hour's  silence  she  turned  her  face  toward 
Jessie  and  asked  suddenly, 

"  Do  you  know  that  this  place  they  call  Zion  is  a  den  of 
murderers  ?' ' 

The  question  was  so  unexpected  and  startling  that  for  a 
moment  she  was  unable  to  speak.  She  might  have  an- 
swered truthfully  in  the  affirmative,  but  not  wishing  to  do 
so,  she  only  said, 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  it,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  know  it,  and  this 
very  house  has  been  the  scene  of  a  crime  so  dreadful  that 
I  cannot  put  what  I  have  learned  of  it  into  words." 

She  stopped  again,  panting  and  breathless,  but  recover- 
ing herself  after  a  few  minutes  she  went  on  : 

"  You  know  it  was  late  in  the  fall  when  we  bought  this 
place.  It  was  sold  to  us  by  the  bishop  of  the  ward,  who 
held  the  property,  but  the  house  had  been  empty  a  good 
while,  and  everything  in-doors  and  out  was  going  to  decay. 

"  We  put  off  making  repairs  until  spring.  Then  with  the 
first  fine  weather  we  set  about  painting  the  house  and  put- 
ting the  grounds  in  order.  In  one  of  the  rooms  down-stairs 
there  were  dark  stains  on  the  floor.    I  could  not  wash  them 


212  THE  FATE   OF  MADAME   LA    TOUR. 

out,  so  I  had  them  painted  over,  little  thinking  what  they 
were. 

"  The  next  week  my  husband  went  to  work  in  the  orchard. 
Two  rows  of  trees  down  the  middle  were  dead  or  dying, 
and  he  said  he  would  take  them  all  out  and  plant  others. 

"  I  liked  to  be  out  in  the  orchard  with  him  while  he 
worked.  One  day  I  stood  beside  him,  and — I  cannot  tell  it, 
and  yet  I  must — he  was  digging  a  deep  pit  for  a  large  tree 
he  meant  to  set  out,  when  his  spade  struck  some  loose 
rocks.  He  rolled  them  away,  and  oh,  the  horror  of  the 
sight !  It  will  haunt  me  till  I  die.  There  were  the  re- 
mains of  seven  dead  bodies  which  had  been  thrown  in 
together,  dressed  in  the  clothes  they  wore  in  life  :  so  we 
judged  from  the  shreds  that  still  clung  to  them.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  those  of  a  man,  a  woman,  and  some 
children. 

"  I  did  not  stop  to  see  more,  but  fled  to  the  house.  My 
husband  followed  me  in  a  few  minutes.  He  said  he  did 
not  try  to  examine  the  bodies— they  were  in  such  a  state  he 
could  not — but  they  were  lying  on  their  faces,  and  he  could 
see  that  even  the  little  children  had  their  hands  tied  behind 
them  ;  and  of  the  children  there  were  five. 

"  '  I  must  lose  no  time,*  he  added.  '  This  must  be  re- 
ported at  police  headquarters  before  night.  I  shall  fill  up 
the  pit  as  well  as  I  can  and  go  at  once.' 

*'  I  begged  him  not  to  leave  me,  but  he  said  it  would  not 
do  to  wait.  Then,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  he 
told  me  to  go  to  bed  and  stay  there. 

"  '  It  may  not  be  wise  to  let  any  one  know  that  you  were 
with  me,'  he  said.  '  I  will  report  that  you  are  sick  and 
unable  to  leave  your  room.' 

"  I  did  as  he  bade  me,  and  in  truth  I  was  sick  :  hardly 
able  to  stand. 

"  He  did  not  come  in  again  before  going  down  town  ; 


THE  DEAD  TELL  TALES.  aij 

but  when  he  got  back  from  the  City  Hall  he  was  as  white 
as  a  sheet. 

*' '  I  made  my  report,'  he  said,  '  and  what  do  you  think 
the  answer  was  ?  Why,  just  this  :  *'  Never  speak  of  what 
you  have  seen,  if  you  value  your  own  life ;  and  whatever 
you  may  hear  about  your  premises  to-night,  do  not  look 
out:  and  ask  no  questions."  I  tell  you,  Mary,'  he  con- 
tinued, '  this  accursed  discovery  will  end  in  your  murder 
and  mine  unless  we  are  dumb  as  death  itself,  and  I  warn 
you  never  to  speak  of  it  even  to  me.  From  this  hour  we 
will  bury  all  memory  of  it.' 

"  It  was  easy  to  say  that,  but  impossible  to  do  it,  as  he 
knew  well  enough.  That  night,  when  I  heard  sounds  in 
the  orchard,  I  crept  from  the  bed  and  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

"  A  wagon  stood  close  beside  that  pit,  and  half  a  dozen 
men  were  putting  something  into  a  box  that  stood  on  the 
ground.  In  a  few  minutes  my  husband  woke  and  called 
me  in  a  terrified  whisper.  I  went  back  to  bed,  and  he 
said, 

"  '  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mary,  what  makes  you  do  so  ? 
You  are  risking  both  our  lives.  I  tell  you  we  shall  be  mur- 
dered if  the  first  breath  of  suspicion  gets  abroad.' 

"  I  said  nothing  ;  indeed  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  incapa- 
ble of  saying  anything,  for  the  excitement  and  terror 
brought  on  one  of  those  attacks  of  hemorrhage  which  I  had 
in  the  fall.  I  have  not  left  my  bed  since,  and  he  has 
watched  me  night  and  day,  as  I  told  you,  in  mortal  fear  that 
I  will  reveal  something,  while  I  have  lain  here  feeling  as 
though  I  had  abetted  that  horrible  murder  by  helping  to 
cover  it  up."  * 

Jessie  was  silent.    What  could  she  say  ?    It  would  not 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  O,  page  349- 


214         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

lessen  the  horror  of  the  deed,  whose  shadow  seemed  to  fill 
the  house  where  they  were,  to  say  that  it  was  done  by 
authority — that  it  was  only  an  example  of  the  swift  and  sure 
punishment  which  was  visited  upon  covenant-breakers — 
for  with  no  further  knowledge  of  the  facts  than  she  could 
glean  from  the  recital  to  which  she  had  listened,  she  was 
certain  that  the  victims  of  the  tragedy  enacted  under  this 
roof  had  fallen  under  the  curse  invoked  in  the  Endowment 
House  upon  those  who  fail  to  keep  their  oaths. 

The  father  and  mother  had  revealed  the  iniquitous 
mysteries  which  they  had  sworn  to  keep  secret,  and  their 
children  had  perished  with  them,  because  the  bloody  code  of 
Mormon  vengeance  declares  that  the  sin  of  the  parents 
shall  be  visited  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth 
generation.  Or  perhaps  the  children  had  been  killed,  like 
those  at  Mountain  Meadows,  lest  they  should  some  day 
bear  testimony  against  the  murderers  of  their  parents. 

"  Why  do  you  not  speak  ?"  Mrs.  Stanwix  said  at  length. 
"  Do  you  too  think  that  I  should  keep  silent  ?" 

"  It  was  right  to  speak  to  me,"  was  the  reply,  "  if  you 
felt  that  it  would  relieve  you  to  do  so  ;  but  do  not  breathe  a 
word  to  any  one  else.  Your  husband  spoke  truly  when  he 
said  there  was  no  safety  except  in  silence,  and  to  reveal 
what  you  know  could  be  of  no  possible  benefit.  Crimes 
committed  in  obedience  to  '  counsel '  are  never  inquired 
into  and  never  punished." 

"  I  am  glad  that  it  is  possible  to  die — glad  that  my  own 
death  is  so  near.  This  valley,  that  I  foolishly  believed  was 
like  heaven,  would  be  hell  instead  if  there  were  no  way 
out,  and  I  see  none  except  through  the  grave." 

"  You  speak  truly,"  Jessie  was  about  to  exclaim,  but  she 
checked  herself. 

"  For  many  years  there  was  no  other  way  out,"  she  said 
after  a  little  silence,  "  but  now  it  is  sometimes  possible  to 


THE  DEAD  TELL  TALES.  215 

escape  with  one's  life.  Why  do  you  not  go  to  the  fort  and 
claim  protection  ?' ' 

"  For  two  reasons.  All  we  have,  almost,  is  in  this  place, 
which  we  dared  not  make  any  attempt  to  sell ;  and  now  it 
would  cost  me  my  life  to  be  moved.  Not  that  I  am  trou- 
bled about  that  myself  ;  I  have  only  a  few  weeks  to  live  at 
the  longest :  but  my  husband  believes  I  will  recover,  and  he 
is  trying  his  best,  poor  fellow,  to  save  me." 

"  I  am  not  taking  the  good  care  of  you  that  he  has  a  right 
to  expect,"  her  friend  said  ;  "  and  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night  I  am  your  nurse  only,  and  you  must  not  talk  to  me." 

The  sick  woman  acquiesced  in  this  arrangement ;  indeed 
she  was  now  too  much  exhausted  to  speak,  and  after 
another  hour  Jessie  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  sink 
into  a  quiet  slumber. 

Morning  brought  the  husband,  who  looked  anxious  and 
disturbed  when  he  found  his  wife  in  other  hands  than  those 
of  the  servant  with  whom  he  had  left  her  ;  but  the  explana- 
tion Jessie  gave,  together  with  her  quiet  manner,  and  the 
assurance  that  his  wife  had  slept  well  during  the  night, 
appeared  to  disarm  his  suspicions.  When  she  took  her 
leave,  she  expressed  her  willingness  to  come  again  at  any 
time  and  Mr.  Stanwix  answered  that  he  would  send  for 
her  should  there  be  a  change  for  the  worse. 

"  I  hope  he  is  satisfied  that  I  have  heard  nothing,"  she 
said  to  herself  as  she  walked  away. 

Two  days  later  she  was  again  summoned  in  haste  to  her 
friend's  bedside,  but  when  she  arrived  life  had  fled. 
Another  attack  of  hemorrhage  had  silenced  the  only  wit- 
ness who  would  have  had  the  courage  to  reveal  the  crimes 
committed  under  that  roof. 

"  She  has  made  good  her  escape,"  was  Jessie's  first 
thought  as  she  looked  at  the  now  peaceful  face.  "  Is  there 
no  way  open  for  me  ?" 


2i6        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Truly  life  had  become  a  heavy  burden  to  her — heavier 
now  than  ever  ;  for  Ruth  lay  on  her  sick-bed,  with  a  tiny, 
wailing  babe  beside  her,  and  Philip,  from  a  sense  of  duty 
which  his  wife  in  her  jealous  misery  mistook  for  love  trans- 
ferred from  her  to  her  rival,  spent  all  his  time  with  her. 

It  was  now  more  than  a  month  since  he  had  been  home, 
except  for  an  hour  on  Sunday.  At  first  Jessie  tried  bravely 
to  school  herself  into  a  willingness  to  have  him  stay  with 
Ruth  until  her  health  was  restored  ;  but  as  the  weeks 
passed  and  his  whole  interest  seemed  to  center  in  her  sick- 
room, to  the  neglect  of  his  home,  of  her,  and  of  the  bonny 
boy  who  could  say  "  Papa"  so  sweetly,  when,  alas  !  there 
was  no  father  there  to  listen  to  his  call,  a  flood  of  bitter 
feeling  swept  away  her  resolves, 

"  You  have  no  father,"  she  would  say  to  the  wondering 
child,  as  he  climbed  into  her  lap  and  tried  to  wipe  away 
her  tears.     *'  We  have  lost  him — you  and  I." 

Then  the  little  fellow,  understanding  only  the  one  word 
"  father, "  would  prattle  over  again  the  name  he  was  so 
proud  of  being  able  to  speak,  sure  in  his  baby  heart  that 
he  was  comforting  mamma. 

It  was  hard,  very  hard,  to  be  thus  neglected  by  the  hus- 
band who  had  shared  her  every  thought  for  so  many 
years  ;  hard  that  this  girl  should  win  from  her  the  love 
which  was  hers  by  right,  if  the  unreser\'ed  surrender  of 
her  own  heart,  if  wifely  loyalty  and  devotion  and  the  self- 
abnegation  which  had  not  refused  even  the  last  and  most 
cruel  sacrifice  which  could  be  demanded  of  a  woman,  gave 
her  any  rights. 

Surely  her  husband  must  have  transferred  his  love  to 
Ruth,  when  he  could  not  tear  himself  from  her  side  for  a 
single  day  ;  and  then  the  jealous  pain  at  her  heart  grew  so 
strong  that  she  did  not  wonder  at  Helen  Woodford, 
*'  walking  round  and  round  the  house  where  her  husband 


THE  DEAD  TELL  TALES.  217 

stayed,  feeling  as  though  she  could  tear  the  walls  down 
with  her  bare  hands." 

She  did  not  know  all  that  Philip  could  have  told  her  of 
Ruth's  exacting  nature,  or  of  the  tears  and  hysterics  called 
forth  by  the  slightest  intimation  of  a  wish  to  go  home  for  a 
day — and  this  too  at  a  time  when  doctors  and  nurses  as- 
sured him  that  the  least  agitation  might  cost  her  her  life. 

Jessie  had  done  at  first  all  that  she  considered  her  hus- 
band had  any  right  to  ask — and  more.  She  had  gone  to 
see  Ruth,  had  taken  the  tiny  baby  in  her  arms— Philip's 
child,  but  not  hers  —  and  had  forced  herself  to  speak 
kindly  to  the  pale  young  mother.  In  this  she  had  taxed 
her  powers  of  endurance  to  the  utmost,  and  when,  on  the 
following  Sunday,  Philip  said  to  her, 

"  If  you  and  Ruth  could  be  reconciled  to  each  other,  our 
family  might  yet  be  a  happy  one,"  the  restraint  she  Jiad 
put  upon  herself  gave  way  wholly,  and  she  answered  him 
with  words  more  bitter  than  she  had  ever  spoken  to  him  : 

"  Reconciled  to  the  woman  with  whom  you  are  living 
in  adultery — never  !" 

Her  face  was  white  as  death  when  she  spoke,  and  her 
eyes  flashed  dangerous  lightnings.  She  was  in  a  mood  in 
which  her  husband  had  never  yet  seen  her,  and  in  spite  of 
himself  he  quailed  before  her  look. 

Living  in  adultery  !  Never  until  now  had  Jessie  put  her 
thoughts  of  him  into  plain  words  ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  system  that  enjoined  polygamy, 
a  feeling  of  guilt  oppressed  him. 

Besides,  though  he  would  not  acknowledge  the  fact  even 
to  himself,  an  actual  experience  of  the  effects  of  plural 
marriage  had  brought  up  the  question, 

*'  How  can  anything  which  God  ordains  bear  such  evil 
fruit  ?" 

This  question  he  tried  to  put  aside  as  a  temptation  of 


2iS         THE  PATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Satan  ;  but  it  recurred  again  and  again  with  every  instance 
of  domestic  discord,  every  exhibition  of  jealousy  and  heart- 
burning which  he  was  forced  to  witness. 

Jessie  was  wrought  up  now  to  a  pitch  of  excitement  that 
defied  control,  and  the  feelings  which,  for  his  sake,  she 
had  so  long  repressed,  found  utterance  in  words  that 
burned  themselves  into  his  brain. 

"  Look  at  our  home,"  she  cried  ;  "  the  home  that  was 
heaven  once,  and  tell  me  what  it  is  now.  It  is  hell,  and 
you  know  it  ;  and  day  after  day,  while  you  are  spending 
your  smiles  and  your  substance  on  your  mistress,  I  sit  here 
alone  enduring  torments  worse  than  those  of  a  lost  soul  ; 
and  this  is  what  your  religion  has  brought  me  to — -your 
religion,  but  not  mine.  I  thank  God  that  I  can  remember 
a  religion  which  made  a  man  faithful  to  his  marriage  vows, 
which  did  not  set  up  adultery  and  murder  as  sacred  duties. 
It  is  this  memory,  and  only  this,  which  has  kept  me  from 
taking  my  baby  in  my  arms  and  finding  rest  at  the  bottom 
of  the  river." 

"  Jessie  !  Jessie  !"  Philip  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could 
stem  the  torrent  of  her  indignant  words,  "  if  you  felt  in 
this  way,  why  did  you  not  say  so  at  the  first  ?" 

"  Why  ?  Because  your  mind  was  made  up,  and  nothing 
would  turn  you  from  your  purpose.  Did  I  not  humble 
myself  to  plead  with  you — I  will  not  say  as  I  would  have 
pleaded  for  life,  because  it  would  have  been  easy  to  give 
up  my  life  if  you  had  asked  it ;  but  as  a  woman  pleads  for 
the  last,  the  most  precious  thing  left  her  in  earth  or 
heaven — and  what  then  ?  Why,  you  put  my  prayers  aside, 
you  trampled  on  my  heart,  and  all  because  your  Prophet 
bade  you  do  so.  If  I  had  thrown  myself  into  the  river 
your  wedding  would  have  gone  on  all  the  same,  for  that 
would  have  been  what  your  religion  enjoins.  Only  yester- 
day this  woman  right  at  our  door,  who  has  been  driven 


THk  t>EAb  TELL  TALeS.  Sl0 

nearly  mad  by  the  religion  that  has  made  her  husband 
bring  a  girl  right  in  before  her  face  to  share  his  bed  and 
claim  his  love,  went  to  Eliza  Snow  for  counsel,  and  what 
did  she  get  ?     Why  this  : 

"  *  Pray  for  resignation.' 

'*  '  I  do  pray,'  said  the  poor  creature,  '  but  I  cannot  be 
resigned  ;  and  if  that  girl  stays  in  the  house  I  shall  die. ' 

"  '  Die  then,'  was  the  answer.  '  There  are  hundreds  of 
women  up  in  the  burying-ground  who  have  gone  there  be- 
cause they  could  not  be  resigned  to  the  order  of  God.' 

"  And  that  is  the  kind  of  God  you  believe  in,— you,  who 
used  to  tell  me  you  would  shield  me  from  suffering  with 
your  own  life  !" 

"Spare  me,  Jessie,"  he  said  appealingly,  "for  I  too 
have  suffered.  How  much  do  you  suppose  my  life  is  worth 
tome — the  life  I  am  living  now  ?  And  yet,  neither  life 
nor  that  which  is  dearer  than  life  may  be  withheld  when 
God  calls  for  the  sacrifice." 

But  even  while  he  spoke,  the  question  that  he  had  striven 
for  months  to  silence — the  doubt  whether  the  command 
which  he  had  obeyed  at  so  great  a  cost  was  indeed  divine 
— haunted  him  and  checked  his  utterance. 

What  if,  after  all,  this  religion  in  which  he  believed 
should  prove  to  be  false  !  What  if  he  had  sacrificed  home, 
love,  wife,  all  that  a  man  holds  dear,  for  naught  ! 

The  conflict  between  reason  and  superstition — the  con- 
flict waged  in  all  ages  and  under  so  many  forms  of  belief 
— had  begun.     How  would  it  end  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  LION  AND  THE  FOX. 

The  inevitable  changes  which  time  brings  are  not  con- 
fined to  any  particular  locality  or  people,  and  as  the  rapid 
increase  oi  population  in  the  United  States  augmented  the 
tide  of  emigration  to  the  yet  unsettled  portions  of  its  terri- 
tor)',  the  Great  Basin  shared  in  the  influx  of  colonists  who 
were  attracted  by  reports  of  the  agricultural  and  mineral 
wealth  of  the  country  beyond  the  Missouri. 

Within  the  boundaries  of  the  "  Free  and  Independent 
State  of  Deseret,"  as  organized  by  Brigham  Young  and  his 
coadjutors  in  1849,  ^^^  Gentiles,  who  were  to  have  no  part 
nor  lot  in  this  inheritance  of  the  Saints,  had  already  settled 
to  the  number  of  hundreds  of  thousands. 

Wyoming,  Idaho,  Nevada,  Arizona,  and  California — all 
of  them  within  the  limits  of  the  territory  claimed  by  the 
Prophet  "  in  the  name  of  the  Lord" — were  occupied  in  spite 
of  his  dominions,  and  the  country  was  rapidly  filling  up  with 
a  population  inimical  to  him  and  to  the  system  he  repre- 
sented. 

These  unwelcome  intruders  already  hemmed  Utah  in  on 
every  side,  and  the  day  seemed  not  far  distant  when  they 
would  lay  claim  to  the  sacred  soil  of  Zion  itself ;  but  as  yet 
the  Prophet  held  his  own,  and  not  only  ruled  his  subjects 
with  a  rod  of  iron  as  heretofore,  but  kept  out  the  Gentile, 
who  was  not  to  have  so  much  as  a  place  to  set  his  foot 
within  the  borders  of  Zion.  It  is  true,  it  sometimes  hap- 
pened that  an  outsider  was  found  foolhardy  enough  to 
undertake  to  pre-empt  land  beyond  the  boundaries  which  he 


THE   LION  AND    THE  FOX.  22i 

was  forbidden  to  cross,  but  in  such  cases  the  rash  invader 
was  baptized  in  Jordan — and  left  there  ;  and  his  land  fell  to 
heirs  not  named  in  his  will. 

The  only  representatives  of  the  world  they  hated,  who 
could  not  readily  be  driven  from  their  midst,  were  the 
troops  at  Camp  Douglas.  General  Connor,  notwithstand- 
ing many  intimations  that  the  Territory  would  be  made  too 
hot  for  him,  still  professed  himself  satisfied  with  the  cli- 
mate, and  his  batteries  continued  to  frown  upon  the  city, 
the  Tabernacle,  and  even  the  sacred  inclosure  within 
which  the  Prophet  held  his  court. 

But  this  was  not  all.  The  chaplain  at  the  post.  Rev. 
Norman  McLeod,  a  man  of  dauntless  courage,  as  the 
sequel  will  show,  actually  procured  and  opened  a  place  for 
Christian  worship  within  half  a  dozen  blocks  of  the  Taber- 
nacle. At  first  his  congregation  was  drawn  chiefly  from 
the  garrison  and  the  families  who  had  taken  refuge  at  the 
fort,  but  gradually  many  who  in  their  hearts  had  renounced 
Mormonism  began  to  find  their  way  to  the  building  that, 
with  a  juSt  conception  of  one  of  the  first  needs  of  a  people 
so  long  enslaved,  was  named  Independence  Hall.*  As 
might  be  supposed,  many  of  those  who  went  secretly  to 
this  place  of  Christian  worship  were  women,  whose  bruised 
hearts  longed  for  some  message  of  hope  and  consolation  : 
something  which  would  remind  them  that  the  God  of  whom 
they  had  heard  in  their  childhood — a  God  of  infinite  ten- 
derness and  compassion — still  lived. 

Who  shall  blame  them  if,  borne  down  by  the  miseries 
of  their  daily  life,  and  cut  off  from  hope,  they  had  felt  as 
though  he  was  not — had  said,  in  the  bitterness  of  their 

souls, 

"  We  sit  unowned  upon  our  burial  sod, 
And  know  not  whence  we  come,  nor  whose  we  be." 

♦See  Appendix,  Note  P,  pag«  350. 


222         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

Among  the  first  to  go  openly  to  the  hall  was  Jessie  La 
Tour.  Others  had  gone  veiled  and  disguised  to  the  even- 
ing service.  She  went  in  broad  day,  and  without  making 
the  least  attempt  at  concealment.  The  first  time  that  she 
defied  the  authority  of  the  Church  in  this  way  the  boldness 
of  the  act  seemed  to  paralyze  those  whose  duty  it  was  to 
watch  her,  and  nothing  was  said  or  done  by  them  ;  but  on 
the  second  Sabbath  a  note  was  thrown  into  her  open  win- 
dow after  her  return.  She  unfolded  it,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  Remember  your  oath.  Remember  also  what  is  the 
penalty  of  disobedience.  You  have  offended  twice.  The 
third  time,  that  which  you  imprecated  upon  yourself  when 
you  took  your  vows  will  surely  befall  you.  Be  warned  in 
season." 

Jessie's  lip  curled  contemptuously  as  she  read,  and  she 
made  a  motion  as  though  to  tear  the  paper  in  two,  but 
checked  herself  and  handed  it  to  Philip,  who  happened  to 
be  at  home  in  the  afternoon.  He  read  it,  and  turned  very 
pale. 

"  Jessie  !  what  have  you  been  doing  ?"  he  said,  with  a 
degree  of  agitation  which  showed  plainly  that  the  missive 
meant  something — to  him,  at  least. 

"What  have  I  been  doing?"  she  answered.  "Why,  I 
thought  you  and  everybody  knew.  I  went  last  Sunday  to 
Independence  Hall  to  attend  a  Christian  service.  I  have 
been  there  again  to-day,  and  I  mean  to  go  next  Sunday. ' ' 

"  You  must  not  go  again.     You  are  risking  too  much." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  Does  this  paper,  which 
I  should  have  thrown  into  the  fire  without  reading,  frighten 
you  ?  I  hope  not ;  for  just  as  surely  as  I  am  alive,  and 
well  enough  to  walk  there,  I  shall  go  to  the  hall  next  Sun- 
day, and  every  Sunday." 

"  Jessie,  listen  to  me  for  our  child's  sake,  if  not  for  my 


THE  LION  AND    THE  FOX.  223 

sake  or  your  own.  I  tell  you,  it  will  not  be  safe  for  you  to 
disregard  the  warning  you  have  received." 

"  Why  ?  Do  you  think  I  should  be  dealt  with  as  Mrs. 
Jay  and  Mrs.  Morse  were  ?' ' 

He  rose  from  his  seat  and  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"I  love  you,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible, 
"  love  you  better  than  my  life,  though  you  do  not  believe 
it ;  but  I  could  not  save  you  by  giving  my  life  for  yours  if 
you  should  do  as  you  say  you  will." 

"  You  want  me,  then,  by  submission,  to  strengthen  the 
hands  of  the  man  who  has  people  killed  for  attending  Chris- 
tian worship  ?  That  is  what  makes  him  the  tyrant  he  is. 
If  even  a  few  of  the  people  had  courage  enough  to  defy 
him,  his  power  would  be  broken  ;  but  just  as  long  as  every- 
body fears  him,  persons  who  offend  him  will  continue  to 
disappear,  like  those  two  women  who  have  never  been 
seen  since  they  passed  through  the  Eagle  Gate." 

"  I  beg  you,  Jessie,  not  to  speak  of  them  again." 

"  Why  not  ?     Do  you  know  what  became  of  them  ?" 

Jessie  would  have  continued  her  questions,  but  there  was 
a  look  on  her  husband's  face  that  checked  her  —an  expres- 
sion not  only  of  agony,  but  of  horror  and  dread. 

"  He  does  know,"  was  the  thought  that  forced  itself  upon 
her,  and  then  her  own  face  grew  white  ;  for  whispers  of  a 
deed  so  dreadful  that  none  dared  name  it  aloud  had  been 
afloat  for  weeks  past. 

Two  women  had  been  accused  of  revealing  the  secret 
rites  of  the  Endowment  House.  They  had  been  summoned 
to  trial,  and  since  then  had  never  been  seen  ;  but  the  belief 
prevailed  that  the  penalties  prescribed  by  the  bloody  code 
against  which  they  had  transgressed  had  been  inflicted  on 
them  in  full.*    Death,  in  itself,  was  not  considered  ^.  §ufl[l- 

•Sec  Appendix,  Note  Q,  page  351.   , 


a24         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

cient  punishment  for  exposing  the  secrets  of  the  Endow- 
ment House. 

To  mete  out  the  full  measure  of  vengeance  which  the 
culprit  had  called  down  upon  himself,  death  must  be  pre- 
ceded by  tortures  from  which  the  imagination  recoils,  and 
which  no  pen  could  describe. 

Philip  La  Tour  now  held  an  office  which  made  it  his  duty 
to  be  present  when  offenders  were  tried  and  sentenced.  If 
he  had  been  present  when  these  women  were  tried,  he  surely 
knew  enough  to  make  him  dread  a  like  fate  for  his  own  wife. 

In  spite  of  her  fearless  nature,  Jessie  trembled  and  grew 
faint  as  these  thoughts  passed  through  her  mind.  There 
were  no  crimes  of  which  these  wretches  were  incapable. 
She  dared  not  even  conjecture  what  would  be  the  fate  of 
one  who  was  in  their  hands  wholly  and  without  remedy. 

"  I  will  not  fall  into  their  hands,"  she  said  aloud,  reply- 
ing to  her  own  thoughts.  "  I  will  take  my  boy  and  go  to 
the  fort  to-day.  The  guard  that  accompanies  the  chaplain 
is  in  town.  I  will  ask  protection.  There  are  a  few  men, 
even  here,  who  will  protect  a  woman." 

"  Jessie  !"  and  something  in  his  voice  compelled  her  at- 
tention. 

"  There  is  another  way.  Only  be  patient  and  wait  a  lit- 
tle while.  There  are  changes  coming  of  which  you  do  not 
dream.  Grant  what  I  ask.  Stay  away  from  these  meet- 
ings for  the  present,  and  act  as  though  you  submitted  to 
the  authority  of  the  Church,  and  better  days  will  dawn  for 
both  of  us." 

What  did  he  mean  ?  Was  it  possible  that  his  eyes  were 
being  opened  to  see  the  iniquities  of  the  system  that  he 
had  believed  was  divine  ?  Jessie's  heart  beat  quickly  at 
the  thought,  which  something  in  his  face  as  well  as  in  his 
words  seemed  to  confirm.  If  this  were  true,  she  would  do 
what  he  asked — do  anything  for  him. 


THE  LION  AND    THE  FOX.  22$ 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said  at  length,  hardly 
daring  to  trust  her  voice  lest  it  should  betray  all  the  joy 
she  felt  at  the  possibilities  that  opened  up  before  her. 

It  was  now  two  years  since  the  day  (never  to  be  forgotten 
by  him)  when  the  expression  of  a  wish  that  she  and  Ruth 
might  be  reconciled  to  each  other  had  called  forth  the  in- 
dignant words  which  stung  into  life  a  feeling  of  remorse,  a 
sense  of  guilt,  which  could  not  co-exist  with  a  firm  belief 
in  the  divinity  of  the  system  which  enjoined  polygamy. 

Nor  was  this  all.  During  these  two  years  many  facts 
had  come  to  his  knowledge  which  had  greatly  shaken  his 
faith  in  the  Prophet.  He  was  beginning  to  see  what  an 
impartial  observer  might  have  seen  from  the  first — that 
Brigham  Young  and  his  coadjutors  were  using  all  the 
machinery  of  the  Church  for  their  own  aggrandizement, 
and  that  the  poor  were  oppressed  and  the  whole  people 
systematically  robbed  to  fill  the  coffers  of  those  men. 

Only  one  thing  more  was  needed  to  complete  his  disen- 
thrallment,  and  that  was  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
shocking  barbarities  involved  in  the  rite  of  blood-atone- 
ment. This  final  blow  to  his  faith  in  Mormonism  came  at 
the  very  time  when  a  few  Christians  were  making  an  effort 
to  publish  the  long-forgotten  gospel  of  peace  and  good-will 
among  the  subjects  of  the  Prophet.  It  is  true  he  was  not 
an  actual  witness  of  the  sickening  horrors  of  the  Black 
Vault,  but  he  knew  the  victims  who  were  taken  there,  and 
knew  the  fate  to  which  they  were  doomed. 

Yet  while  his  whole  nature  recoiled  from  such  scenes  of 
blood  and  cruelty,  and  the  inevitable  effect  of  his  knowl- 
edge of  them  was  to  overthrow  his  faith  in  a  religion  whose 
altars  were  red  with  human  sacrifices,  he  had  not  attained 
to  the  courage  necessary  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  the 
Prophet  and  take  his  place  openly  among  those  who  werq 
known  as  apostates. 


226         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

That  better  days  were  coming  he  fully  believed.  From 
present  indications  it  seemed  impossible  that  the  Gentiles 
could  be  kept  out  of  the  Territory  for  another  decade. 

The  mineral  wealth  of  Nevada  and  Colorado,  which  had 
attracted  so  many  immigrants,  might  one  day  find  a  rival 
here.  Already  valuable  deposits  of  lead  and  silver  ores 
had  been  discovered  by  parties  attached  to  General  Con- 
nor's command,  and  the  report  of  these  discoveries  was 
certain  to  bring  miners  from  the  neighboring  Territories  in 
such  numbers  that  they  would  be  able  to  defy  the  Prophet. 

In  such  an  event,  the  disaffected  element  within  the 
Church  would  certainly  join  the  foe  from  without  in  an  at- 
tack upon  the  despotism  which  made  life,  liberty,  and 
property  dependent  upon  the  will  of  one  man. 

There  were  many  besides  Philip  La  Tour  who  waited  for 
the  coming  of  such  a  day  of  deliverance  as  his  hopes 
shadowed  forth — many  who  had  been  as  sincere  as  he  in 
their  acceptance  of  Mormonism,  and  who  had  made  even 
greater  sacrifices  for  the  sake  of  their  faith. 

Ever  since  the  bloody  days  of  the  "  Reformation,"*  when 
an  unsupported  accusation  was  sufficient  to  doom  a  man 
or  woman  to  death,  or  a  fate  worse  than  death,  without 
even  the  form  of  a  trial,  the  number  of  those  who  only 
waited  for  an  opportunity  to  throw  off  the  Prophet's  yoke 
had  been  steadily  increasing. 

Husbands  whose  wives  had  "  disappeared,"  wives  whose 
husbands  had  been  called  out  of  the  house  in  the  dead  of 
night  to  meet  the  knife  and  bullet  of  the  Destroying  Angels, 
and  parents  whose  sons  had  been  given  over  to  the  tender 

•  A  reign  of  terror  inaugurated  in  1857  by  the  preaching  of  such  fan- 
atics as  Grant,  Brigham's  Counselor.  The  Reformation  was  at  full  tide 
when  the  Mountain  Meadow  massacre  took  place,  and  that  most  atro- 
cious butchery  was  in  accordance  with  the  doctrines  taught  by  the 
Mormon  press  and  pulpit  at  the  period  named. 


THE  LION  AND    THE  FOX.  3*7 

mercies  of  the  Danites,  could  hardly  be  expected  to  remain 
firm  in  their  loyalty  to  the  Church  whose  teachings  sanc- 
tioned these  atrocities.  Yet  so  absolute  was  the  despot- 
ism under  which  the  people  lived,  and  so  great  was  the 
terror  inspired  by  the  summary  punishment  visited  on 
those  who  were  even  suspected  of  apostasy,  that  but  for 
the  presence  of  the  troops  no  whisper  of  dissent  would 
have  been  heard  among  the  masses. 

Not  even  to  his  wife  did  Philip  La  Tour  venture  to  con- 
fess all  his  distrust  of  the  Prophet,  and  his  horror  of  the 
crimes  perpetrated  by  his  order  ;  and  though  by  this  time 
he  had  little  doubt  that  plural  marriage  was  likewise  a 
crime  against  both  human  and  divine  law,  he  continued  to 
acknowledge  Ruth  as  his  wife,  and  to  spend  half  his  time 
with  her — not  because  he  cared  for  her,  but  because  he 
dared  not  renounce  polygamy  openly. 

After  the  scene  described  in  a  former  part  of  this  chap- 
ter, Jessie  found  her  life  more  tolerable  ;  for  though  Philip 
still  spent  every  alternate  week  at  "  the  other  house,"  she 
could  not  help  seeing  that  he  went  there  reluctantly  and 
returned  to  her  gladly ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to 
those  who  have  seen  nothing  of  the  domestic  life  of  the 
Saints,  she  began  to  take  unusual  pains  with  her  dress,  her 
table,  and  her  household  arrangements,  and  to  make  the 
time  which  her  husband  spent  with  her  wear  a  holiday 
garb. 

Do  women  who  have  never  been  within  sight  or  hearing 
of  such  lives  as  hers  wonder  that  she  could  forgive  the  past, 
and  solace  herself  with  the  hope  of  a  future  in  which  her 
husband  should  be  all  her  own  ? 

There  are  scores  of  women  in  Utah  to-day  who  have  ex- 
tended such  forgiveness  to  husbands  who  cast  them  aside 
in  obedience  to  the  requirements  of  a  false  faith,  and 
whose  late  repentance   has  involved  not  only  the  breakings 


238         THE  FATE    OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

of  other  ties,  but  the  loss  of  property,  position,  and 
friends. 

When  Philip  at  length  found  courage  to  talk  freely  with 
his  wife,  and  explain  his  difficulties,  he  found  her  more 
patient  and  considerate  than  he  had  dared  to  hope  she 
would  be  ;  and  when  he  begged  her  to  bear  with  him  until 
the  way  opened  for  him  to  renounce  polygamy  and  Mor- 
monism  together,  she  answered  that  she  could  bear  all 
things  with  the  prospect  before  her  of  a  day  in  which  he 
would  be  a  free  man. 

In  many  respects  he  wais  better  situated  than  others  who 
wished  to  sever  their  connection  with  Mormonism,  for  he 
had  but  one  plural  wife,  while  some  of  his  brethren  had 
half  a  dozen  whom  they  must  give  up,  together  with  their 
children.  According  to  the  teachings  of  the  Mormon  pul- 
pit, when  a  man  was  cut  off  from  the  Church,  all  of  his 
wives  and  children  were  to  be  taken  from  him  and  given  to 
others.  Even  the  first  wife,  with  her  children,  could  be 
disposed  of  in  this  manner.  There  are  many  instances  on 
record  where  a  man  suspected  of  apostasy  and  compelled 
to  flee  for  his  life  has  returned  to  the  Territory  in  after 
years  only  to  find  the  wife  of  his  youth  in  the  harem  of 
some  member  of  the  priesthood,  who  claimed  his  children 
also. 

Philip  knew  that  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  caution  he 
could  provide  for  the  safety  of  his  wife  and  son,  and  he  was 
quite  willing  to  give  up  Ruth,  who  had  no  children  ;  for 
the  frail  baby,  the  innocent  cause  of  so  much  bitter  feeling, 
lived  only  a  couple  of  months. 

Then,  too,  his  hands  were  unstained  by  crime,  while 
others  who  longed  for  freedom  were  held  back  by  their 
enforced  participation  in  some  of  the  dark  deeds  "  coun- 
seled" by  the  authorities  of  the  Church. 

When  Jessie  thought    over    the  matter  by    herself,   it 


THE  LION  AND    THE  FOX.  aag 

seemed  to  her  as  if  there  was  really  no  hindrance  except 
their  property,  which  must  be  sacrificed  if  they  left  the  Ter- 
ritory, and  which,  on  her  part,  she  was  quite  willing  to 
sacrifice  ;  but  then,  if  Philip  did  not  see  his  way  clearly 
yet,  she  would  wait,  and  wait  patiently. 

In  the  mean  time,  true  to  her  promise,  she  kept  away  from 
Independence  Hall,  and  attended  the  services  at  the  Taber- 
nacle instead — in  short,  conducted  herself  as  Philip  had 
advised,  so  as  to  give  the  impression  that  she  was  com- 
pletely subdued. 

Some  of  her  neighbors,  however,  continued  to  go  regu- 
larly to  the  meetings  in  spite  of  threats,  and  the  Sabbath- 
school  proved  so  great  an  attraction  to  the  Mormon  chil- 
dren that  no  degree  of  punishment  availed  to  keep  them 
from  it. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  such  a  state  of  things  could 
be  suffered  to  continue.  Mobs,  armed  and  organized  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that  they  were  acting 
under  instructions,  surrounded  and  filled  the  hall  at  the 
hour  of  service.  The  meetings  were  broken  up,  the  life  of 
McLeod  threatened,  and  finally  Dr.  Robinson,  one  of  his 
strongest  supporters,  was  murdered  in  cold  blood. 

McLeod  was  not  a  man  likely  to  succumb  to  threats  or 
violence,  and  he  determined  to  assert  his  rights  as  an 
American  citizen  and  continue  to  hold  religious  services  in 
the  building  that  he  and  his  friends  had  paid  for  ;  but  official 
changes  soon  after  called  him  from  the  Territory,  and  the 
movement  he  had  inaugurated,  deprived  of  his  courageous 
leadership,  seemed  for  the  time  at  an  end. 

Other  influences,  however,  were  at  work  to  change  the 
condition  of  affairs.  Rumors  of  the  mineral  wealth  of  Utah 
reached  the  surrounding  Territories,  and  hundreds  of  hardy 
miners,  most  unpromising  material  for  subjects  of  a  despot- 
ism, began  to  crowd  in. 


230         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

At  first  the  authorities  of  the  Church  ordered  the  Danites 
to  drive  all  prospectors  out  of  the  caftons  with  shot-guns  ; 
but  in  a  very  little  while  the  Prophet  discovered  that  the 
game  was  one  which  two  could  play  at,  and  this  order, 
though  not  rescinded,  became  practically  inoperative. 

Then  another  foe,  more  dreaded  even  than  the  miners, 
was  reported  on  the  way.  The  iron  horse  was  speeding 
across  the  plains  over  which  Mormon  pilgrims  dragged 
their  hand-carts  only  a  few  years  since.  In  a  little  while 
Deseret,  the  kingdom  that  was  never  to  be  moved,  must  be 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  world  from  which  its  founders 
had  fled,  and  the  old  strife  between  civilization  and  barbar- 
ism would  be  renewed. 

But  the  Prophet  proved  himself  equal  to  the  emergency. 
The  Lion  of  the  Lord,  as  he  was  wont  to  style  himself,  be- 
came a  very  fox  in  cunning  and  duplicity  ;  and  though  he 
did  not  succeed  in  keeping  out  the  invader,  he  saved  his 
kingdom  from  overthrow,  and  made  all  who  came  from 
without  realize  that  they  dwelt  in  Zion  only  by  sufferance. 

The  only  perceptible  change  consequent  upon  the  new 
order  of  things  was  that  blood-atonement,  instead  of  being 
preached  and  practiced  openly  as  heretofore,  took  the  form 
of  midnight  murders  committed  under  secret  instructions. 
Gentiles  and  apostates  were  no  longer  shot  down  in  broad 
daylight ;  but  men  who  knew  themselves  to  be  obnoxious 
to  the  priesthood  kept  in-doors  after  dark,  or,  if  compelled  to 
go  out,  armed  themselves  doubly,  and  took  the  middle  of 
the  street. 

In  other  respects,  however,  the  despotic  rule  of  the  Proph- 
et was  in  nowise  affected  by  the  presence  of  the  Gentile 
element  in  his  dominions.  If  he  chose  to  appropriate  the 
property  of  his  subjects  the  courts  afforded  them  no  re- 
dress, and  polygamy,  instead  of  experiencing  any  check, 
spread  and  increased. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A    MYSTERY    SOLVED. 

The  southern  portion  of  Utah  has  been  the  scene  of 
many  a  bloody  tragedy  besides  that  of  Mountain  Meadows, 
but  as  yet  there  had  been  no  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
Government  to  seek  out  and  punish  the  perpetrators  of  any 
of  the  crimes  committed  there  ;  and  if  in  Salt  Lake  and 
under  the  guns  of  the  fort  some  feeble  effort  was  made  by 
the  Federal  authorities  to  investigate  the  murders  com- 
mitted at  their  very  doors,  the  accused  had  only  to  betake 
themselves  south  to  assure  their  perfect  safety. 

The  idea  of  arresting  a  Mormon  in  one  of  the  southern 
settlements  without  the  aid  of  an  armed  force  was  so  pre- 
posterous that  the  most  courageous  of  the  Federal  judges 
would  not  send  a  United  States  marshal  on  such  an  errand  ; 
and  even  if  the  officers  of  the  law  should  be  sent  after 
notorious  offenders  with  troops  at  their  back,  it  would  be 
quite  useless. 

Brigham  assured  his  people  that  he  had  prepared  a  re- 
treat in  the  mountains  of  the  south  in  which  the  whole  peo- 
ple might  hide — a  spot  of  which  no  white  man  knew  any- 
thing except  those  in  his  confidence. 

This  assurance  was  an  exaggeration,  like  most  of  his 
public  boasts  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  in  the  heart  of  the 
mountains  he  described  there  has  always  been  a  safe  refuge 
for  those  of  his  followers  who,  after  years  of  delay  on  the 
part  of  the  Government,  have  at  length  been  indicted  for 
some  of  their  many  crimes. 


43*         *rtiE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

In  1867  and  '68  many  persons  whose  names  were  un- 
pleasantly associated  with  open  outrages  committed  in  Salt 
Lake  and  vicinity  found  it  convenient  to  move  south,  and 
among  these  were  two  men  who  were  heavily  indebted  to 
Philip  La  Tour,  and  who  had  forgotten  to  settle  their  ac- 
counts before  leaving. 

Not  wishing  to  lose  so  large  a  sum,  he  determined  upon 
going  down  to  the  settlement  in  which  they  had  located, 
hoping  to  make  some  arrangements  by  which  a  part  at 
least  of  the  debt  might  be  secured. 

It  was  a  long  distance — more  than  two  hundred  miles — 
and  as  railroads  were  yet  unknown  in  Utah,  and  stage 
lines  few,  the  whole  journey  had  to  be  made  by  private 
conveyance.  Such  institutions  as  hotels  were  also  yet  in 
the  future  ;  but  in  most  of  the  settlements  there  was  some 
house — often  that  of  the  bishop — at  which  the  chance 
traveler  could  obtain  lodgings. 

On  his  return  trip,  and  when  still  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  south  of  Salt  Lake,  La  Tour  stopped  for  the  night  at 
a  small  town,  the  center  of  a  farming  community,  estab- 
lished there  in  the  early  days  of  the  Territory.  Mother 
Simons,  his  hostess,  was  a  garrulous  old  lady,  one  of  the 
original  Nauvoo  Mormons,  and  also  one  of  the  earliest  con- 
verts to  the  doctrine  of  polygamy. 

She  had  come  to  Nauvoo  a  widow,  and  bestowed  herself 
and  the  property  she  brought  with  her  upon  an  elder  whose 
wife,  like  many  other  women  in  Nauvoo  at  the  time,  was 
kept  in  profound  ignorance  of  the  transaction  until  the 
Saints  emigrated  to  Utah. 

The  first  consequence  of  the  avowal  of  these  secret  poly- 
gamous relations  was  generally  a  division  of  the  domestic 
establishment ;  and  Mother  Simons,  who,  besides  being 
several  years  older  than  the  lawful  wife,  was  almost 
pathetically  ugly,  was  given  a  home  in  this  southern  settle- 


A   MY'STEHY  SOLVED.  233 

mcnt,  while  the  other  members  of  the  family  remained  in 
Salt  Lake. 

No  sense  of  ill-usage  or  neglect,  however,  seemed  to  dis- 
turb the  good  woman's  placid  content,  or  affect  in  the  least 
her  loyalty  to  her  master  or  to  the  Church.  She  was  the 
most  devout  of  Saints,  paid  her  tithing  with  scrupulous 
regularity,  and  every  spring  and  fall  made  the  long  journey 
of  a  hundred  miles  to  Salt  Lake,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
the  face  of  her  Prophet  and  hearing  his  voice  at  the  confer- 
ence. 

La  Tour  found  tolerable  accommodations  at  Mother 
Simon's  place  ;  but  as  a  chilly  autumn  rain  set  in  on  the 
evening  of  his  arrival,  he  was  glad  to  exchange  the  uncom- 
fortable temperature  of  his  own  room  for  the  warmth  of 
the  old  lady's  kitchen  fire. 

Mother  Simons  delighted  greatly  in  new  subjects,  into 
whose  ears  she  might  pour  the  flood  of  gossip  which  her 
neighbors  grew  tired  of  listening  to,  and  she  made  the 
most  of  the  present  opportunity.  After  La  Tour  had  sub- 
mitted good-naturedly  to  a  long  catechism  with  regard  to 
his  own  affairs  and  "  the  news  in  Salt  Lake,"  she  pro- 
ceeded to  enlighten  him  upon  the  history  of  all  the  families 
in  the  settlement. 

It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  her  tattle  was  in  the 
main  good-natured,  and  she  had  no  evil  report  to  bring  up 
until  she  came  to  the  neighbor  whose  orchard  adjoined  her 
own. 

"They're  that  set  up,"  she  remarked,  "that  folks  as 
works  for  a  livin'  ain't  good  enough  for  'em  to  speak  to, 
hardly.  They've  got  a  two-story  house — the  only  one  in 
the  settlement — though  what  they  want  with  such  a  place, 
with  nary  chick  nor  child  around,  nobody  kin  tell.  Sister 
Mirandy  won't  have  the  second  wife  in  the  house  neither, 
and  she  and   Brother  Wells  and  their  Danish  girl  was 


234         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

reckoned  for  years  and  years  to  be  the  only  souls  on  the 
place  ;  but  a  spell  ago — 'tain't  more'n  six  months,  I  should 
say — it  leaked  out  that  they've  bin  a-keepin'  a  poor  crazy 
creetur  for  nobody  knows  how  long,  in  one  o'  the  upper 
rooms.  'Pears  as  if  it's  a  relation  of  some  kind  ;  and  folks 
that  knows  how  graspin'  Brother  Wells  has  always  bin 
says  they've  got  her  property,  and  that's  what's  set  'em  up 
so,  and  give  Sister  Mirandy  her  fine  shawls  and  things." 

Here  the  good  woman  stopped  a  moment  to  take  breath  ; 
but  as  her  listener  showed  no  disposition  to  interrupt  her 
by  a  question,  she  went  on  directly  : 

"  Some  of  them  that  takes  up  for  Sister  Mirandy  says  the 
woman  ain't  no  kind  of  relation,  but  only  a  poor  creetur 
without  friends,  and  that  they're  paid  for  her  keepin*  out  of 
the  tithin',  but  that  ain't  noways  likely  ;  for,"  dropping  her 
voice  a  little,  "  things  has  come  out  lately  that  goes  to 
show  that  Brother  Wells  ain't  much  better  than  a  'postate, 
and  as  for  Sister  Mirandy,  she's  always  been  set  agin 
plurality,  and  'twouldn't  surprise  me  the  least  mite  to  hear 
her  say  she'd  never  had  no  faith  in  the  gospel  ;  for  them 
that  sets  up  to  pick  and  choose  for  themselves  what  part 
they'll  believe  and  what  part  they  won't,  generally  ends 
with  believin'  nothin'. 

"  I  don't  want  to  think  no  harm  of  my  neighbors,  and 
there  ain't  nobody  that  kin  say  I  go  around  talkin'  about 
folks  behind  their  backs  ;  but  I  can't  help  mistrustin' 
there's  somethin'  wrong  in  that  family.  No  soul  in  the 
settlement  has  ever  seen  that  poor  creetur  up-stairs  ;  an' 
them  that  used  to  know  Brother  Wells  kin  tell  you  the 
same  as  I,  that  he  didn't  have  a  dollar  to  his  name  when  he 
was  in  Nauvoo.  Now,  what  I  want  to  know  is,  where's 
his  money  come  from,  and  what  made  him  keep  that  poor 
creetur  out  of  sight  for  years  and  years  ?" 

Again  Mother  Simons  paused,  as  though  expecting  to 


A   MYSTERY  SOLVED.  235 

elicit  from  some  source  the  information  she  had  asked  for, 
but  as  it  was  not  forthcoming  she  continued  : 

"  But  I  ain't  told  the  hull.  The  way  it  happened  to 
come  out  that  they  was  keepin'  this  poor  creetur  up-stairs, 
she  was  took  sick,  and  it  'pears  like  all  they  could  do  for 
her  didn't  help  her  a  mite,  so  they  sent  to  Nephi  settlement 
for  Sister  Perkins. 

"  Now  Sister  Perkins  is  a  master  hand  at  doctorin*  with 
yerbs — I  shouldn't  be  above  ground  myself  to-day  if  it 
hadn't  bin  for  her — and  besides  she's  one  of  the  kindest- 
hearted  creeturs  that  ever  breathed.  She  felt  that  bad 
about  Sister  Mirandy's  aunt  (for  that's  what  they  give  out 
she  was  to  'em)  that  she  couldn't  keep  still  about  her 
noways.  Sister  Perkins  thought,  and  we  all  thought,  that 
if  the  rights  of  the  thing  was  told.  Brother  Wellses  house, 
and  all  their  fixin's  that  they  set  such  store  by,  come  out  of 
the  aunt's  money  ;  and  Sister  Perkins  said  she  didn't  'pear 
to  her  that  crazy  that  she  needed  to  be  shut  up  all  the  time. 
Kinder  strange  like,  she  was,  and  wouldn't  speak  ;  but 
that  was  all.  But  there  was  more  to  come.  Seems  as .  if 
the  poor  creetur  kep'  growin*  weaker  and  weaker  after 
that  sick  spell,  and  yesterday  she  dropped  off.  The  neigh- 
bors that  went  to  lay  her  out  asked  for  her  Temple  robes, 
and  Sister  Mirandy  up  and  says,  as  sharp  as  could  be, 

"  '  She  won't  wear  nothin'  of  the  kind,  for  she  wasn't  in 
the  Church  ;  and  I  won't  put  on  her  dead  what  she  wouldn't 
have  if  she  was  alive.' 

"  That  was  a  curus  speech,  and  if  it  had  a'  bin  any  one 
else  they'd  bin  called  to  account  for  it ;  but  the  bishop, 
he's  always  bin  easy  with  Brother  Wellses  folks,  and  he's 
that  easy  now  that  he's  goin'  to  preach  the  funeral  to-mor- 
row momin',  though  Sister  Mirandy  says  as  plain  as  can 
be  her  aunt  never  was  in  the  Church. ' ' 

Philip  listened  to  his  landlady's  monologue  at  first  with 


iZ(»         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

profound  indifference,  but  finally  with  a  degree  of  interest 
for  which  he  could  not  account,  and  when  she  finished 
asked  the  hour  of  the  funeral. 

"  Ten  o'clock  in  the  mornin',"  was  the  answer.  "  Maybe 
you'd  like  to  go.  The  neighbors  is  all  a-goin'  to  get  a 
sight  of  the  poor  creetur  that  nobody's  bin  let  to  see  while 
she  was  alive." 

When  morning  came,  the  rain  which  had  set  in  the 
night  before  was  still  falling,  and  the  prospect  of  riding 
through  such  a  storm  was  not  a  pleasant  one  ;  but  this 
alone  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  cause  Philip  to  de- 
fer starting  until  the  next  day. 

A  curiosity  as  unusual  as  it  was  unaccountable  possessed 
him  to  look  on  the  face  of  the  woman  whose  sad  story  had 
ended  in  death.  Who  was  she  ?  And  why  had  her  exist- 
ence been  kept  secret  for  so  many  years'? 

When  the  hour  appointed  for  the  funeral  arrived,  Philip 
took  the  way  to  the  house  alone.  The  place  looked  like 
the  home  of  a  well-to-do  farmer — a  New  England  farmer, 
an  observer  from  the  States  would  have  added — for  there 
was  an  air  of  thrift  and  neatness  about  the  grounds  and 
buildings  which,  as  a  rule,  was  conspicuously  absent  from 
the  homes  of  the  Utah  settlers  at  that  day. 

The  appearance  of  the  front  room  in  which  the  funeral 
services  were  held  kept  up  the  impression  of  a  home  trans- 
planted directly  from  the  hills  of  New  Hampshire  or  the 
valleys  of  Connecticut  to  the  Great  Basin,  and  the  man 
who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  coffin,  facing  the  curious  crowd 
with  grave  composure,  was  unmistakably  a  son  of  the  Pil- 
grims. 

How  came  he  in  such  a  place  and  among  such  a  people  ? 

But  if  his  looks  and  bearing  compelled  this  question,  that 
of  the  woman  beside  him  contrasted  still  more  strongly 
with  the  surroundings. 


A   MYSTERY  SOLVED.  237 

A  noble,  spiritual  face  ;  a  head  to  which  the  silver  locks 
were  as  a  crown  of  glory,  and  a  presence  at  once  gentle 
and  commanding,  increased  every  moment  the  wonder  of 
the  beholder  at  finding  her  in  such  a  company. 

La  Tour,  seated  near  the  door,  could  scarcely  take  his 
eyes  from  that  face,  which  recalled  dimly  a  life  that  now 
was  little  more  than  a  dream  to  him — a  life  untainted  by 
the  deadly  poison  of  the  upas-tree  that  had  taken  fast  root 
in  these  valleys. 

Like  a  man  but  half  awake  he  listened  to  the  rambling 
discourse  of  the  bishop,  which  included  a  reminder  that  it 
was  the  duty  of  the  nearest  of  kin  to  be  baptized  for  the 
dead,  who  had  left  the  world  without  receiving  the  gospel  ; 
listened  to  the  doleful  funeral  hymn,  and  rose  to  his  feet  as 
the  whole  company,  marshaled  by  the  bishop,  filed  past 
the  coffin. 

He  was  the  last  in  the  line,  and  a  feeling  of  reluctance 
that  amounted  to  dread  held  him  back,  until  he  was  left 
standing  alone.  Then  the  bishop,  recognizing  him  as  the 
stranger  who  had  stopped  in  the  settlement  over  night, 
beckoned  him  forward,  and  he  moved  slowly  toward  the 
spot  where  the  dead  lay  at  rest. 

The  body  was  robed  in  a  plain  shroud,  the  thin  hands 
were  folded  on  the  breast,  and  on  one  of  them  was  a  ring 
— a  ring  he  had  seen  before — and  almost  in  the  same  in- 
stant that  it  met  his  eyes  they  rested  likewise  on  the  dead 
face. 

Great  Heaven  ! 

His  heart  gave  one  suffocating  throb,  and  then  stood 
still. 

It  was  the  face  of  his  mother  !  No  chance  likeness,  no 
resemblance  that  might  cheat  the  eye  for  a  moment,  but  in 
very  deed  the  face  that  had  bent  over  him  in  infancy,  that 
had  made  the  sunlight  of  his  boyhood. 


238         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

For  death  had  brought  back  all  the  early  loveliness  of 
Marguerite  La  Tour,  and  but  for  the  snow-white  hair  she 
looked  as  she  might  have  looked  if  this  dreamless  sleep 
had  overtaken  her  upon  her  bridal  day. 

While  he  stood  as  if  transfixed,  incapable  of  speech  or 
motion,  officious  hands  closed  the  coffin-lid,  and  before  he 
could  rouse  himself  from  his  trance  they  had  carried  it  from 
the  room.  The  assembled  company  followed,  and  he  was 
left  alone.  The  strong  man  felt  as  helpless  as  a  little 
child.  Stunned,  blinded  by  the  shock  of  that  awful  dis- 
covery, he  groped  his  way  to  the  door.  The  wind  that 
blew  in  sharp  gusts,  driving  the  rain  into  his  face,  roused 
his  benumbed  faculties  and  partly  restored  him  to  him- 
self. 

Mechanically  he  followed  the  path  taken  by  those  who 
carried  the  dead  ;  but  he  was  a  long  way  behind,  and  when 
he  reached  the  place  of  burial  the  first  shovelful  of  earth 
had  been  thrown  upon  the  coffin.  As  his  fascinated  eyes 
watched  the  rapid  filling  up  of  the  grave,  all  the  terror  and 
angfuish  of  that  long  night-watch  twenty  years  ago  came 
back  to  him,  and  with  it  came  also  the  memory  of  every 
word  spoken  by  the  man  who  had  made  him  as  well  as  his 
mother  the  victim  of  his  unrelenting  hate. 

He  saw  it  all  now — saw  the  deliberately-planned  scheme 
of  vengeance  which  had  cost  him  and  his  sisters  a  mother. 
How  much  it  had  cost  that  mother  herself  he  dared  not 
think. 

The  burial  was  over.  The  people  whom  curiosity  had 
drawn  together  separated,  and  hurried  homeward  through 
the  rain,  which  was  still  falling.  No  one  remained  beside 
the  grave  except  the  man  and  woman  from  whose  house 
the  dead  had  been  carried  out.  Philip  stood  opposite 
them.  They  too  were  about  turning  away,  when  he  stopped 
them. 


A   MYSTERY  SOLVED.  239 

"My  name  is  La  Tour,"  he  said,  speaking  across  the 
grave.  "  I  saw  and  recognized  the  face  of  her  whom  you 
have  buried  here." 

"  Husband,"  said  the  woman,  clasping  her  companion's 
arm,  "  have  I  not  told  you  again  and  again  that  this  hid- 
den wrong  would  surely  be  brought  out  into  the  light  of 
day?"  The  man  turned  toward  Philip,  "  My  friend,"  he 
said,  "come  with  us  to  our  home.  What  you  should  hear 
can  be  best  spoken  there." 

Without  another  word  he  led  the  way  down  the  path, 
and  Philip  followed  silently.  When  they  reached  the  house 
they  entered,  not  by  the  way  the  dead  had  been  carried 
out,  but  by  a  side  door,  which  opened  into  a  room  that  was 
warm  and  cheerful  in  spite  of  the  storm. 

"  Take  off  your  wet  wrappings,"  said  the  host,  "  and  sit 
down  beside  the  fire,  for  the  story  we  have  to  tell  is  a  long 
one." 

Philip  made  a  negative  gesture. 

"  Do  not  refuse  to  sit  down  in  our  house."  It  was  the 
woman  who  spoke  this  time,  and  her  face  and  her  voice 
were  full  of  pathetic  entreaty.  "  We  are  not  your  ene- 
mies. We  were  not  her  enemies.  Only  hear  what  we 
have  to  tell  you." 

Thus  urged,  he  seated  himself  by  the  fireside,  but  the 
questions  he  wished  to  ask  died  upon  his  lips.  The  man 
turned  to  his  wife. 

"  The  story  is  for  you  to  tell,"  he  said  ;  "  for  from  first  to 
last  you  have  been  blameless  in  this  thing,  and  remorse 
will  not  tie  your  tongue." 

"  Fifteen  years  ago,"  the  woman  began,  fixing  her  soft, 
dark  eyes  on  the  face  of  her  guest,  "  we  were  asked  to  take 
charge  of  a  friendless  woman  who  had  lost  her  reason.  I 
need  not  tell  you  from  whom  the  request  came  ;  but  when 
I  consented  to  receive  the  woman  I  believed  her  case  to  be 


240         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

as  I  have  stated.  My  husband  knew  the  truth,  but  he 
dared  not  refuse  to  do  as  he  was  commanded." 

"Say  also,"  the  man  interrupted,  raising  his  head, 
'*  that  I  was  poor  then,  and  the  money  that  was  offered  me 
tempted  me." 

"  That  is  doubtless  true,"  she  went  on  in  the  same  quiet 
voice  ;  "  but  if  nothing  had  been  offered  you,  you  must  still 
have  obeyed." 

Then  addressing  herself  again  to  Philip,  she  continued 
her  narrative. 

"  We  were  not  living  here  at  that  time.  We  were  in  Salt 
Lake — within  a  few  blocks  of  your  home — and  the  house  in 
which  the  woman  we  were  asked  to  take  charge  of  had 
been  confined  for  five  years,  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street." 

Philip  started  from  his  chair.  If  this  woman  spoke  the 
truth,  how  blind  he  had  been — willfully  blind,  it  seemed 
now. 

"  You  cannot  credit  this,"  she  said,  "  and  yet  it  is  true, 
and  stranger  things  still  have  happened.  Your  mother" 
— her  voice  faltered  a  little  as  she  pronounced  the  word — 
"  was  in  the  custody  of  James  Sprague  until  he  died,  and 
after  his  death  she  was  removed  to  our  house." 

"  How  came  she  in  his  hands  ?  How  could  she  have 
been  taken  there  in  open  day,  against  her  will,  and  yet 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  people  around  her  ?" 

The  woman  looked  at  him  steadily.  "  Surely  you  are 
aware,"  she  said,  "  that  had  all  the  people  known  of  such 
a  thing,  not  one  of  them  would  have  dared  to  speak  if 
counseled  otherwise  ;  but  in  this  case  no  force  was  em- 
ployed. Your  mother  was  decoyed  to  the  house  by  a  mes- 
sage that  you  had  been  injured  by  a  fall  from  a  horse  and 
carried  in  there." 

"  And  what  then  ?" 


A  MYSTERY  SOLVED.  241 

"  She  was  confined  in  a  dark  inner  room  :  kept  under 
lock  and  key  as  a  prisoner,  and  treated  as  a  maniac." 

Philip  sprang  to  his  feet,  with  a  white  face  and  flashing 
eyes.     The  spirit  of  his  race  was  roused  at  last. 

"  My  curse  rest  forever  and  ever  on  the  man  who  placed 
her  there,"  he  cried  ;  "  and  God  do  so  to  me  and  more  also 
if  he  escape  my  vengeance." 

"  Be  calm,"  the  woman  said,  her  own  face  and  voice  un- 
changed. "  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  He 
cares  nothing  for  your  curse,  and  only  those  who  are 
stronger  than  he  can  mete  to  him  the  measure  he  has 
meted  to  others.     Hear  all  that  I  have  to  tell." 

"  Your  mother,  perhaps,  suffered  less  than  you  imagine. 
She  was  not  beaten  or  starved,  as  has  been  the  case  with 
many  a  one  imprisoned  by  the  same  authority,  but  she 
was  fastened  by  day  to  the  bed  on  which  she  slept  at  night, 
and  during  the  five  years  in  which  she  remained  in  that 
house  she  was  not  permitted  to  exchange  a  word  with  a 
human  being — not  even  with  her  keepers,  who  had  strict 
orders  never  to  speak  to  her  or  answer  her. 

"  You  must  understand  that  I  knew  nothing  of  all  this 
when  she  was  placed  in  my  care,  and  it  was  years  before 
the  whole  truth  came  to  my  knowledge  ;  but  she  had  not 
been  with  us  a  week  before  I  was  convinced  that  she  was 
not  insane  ;  and  as  we  had  no  special  orders  regarding  her 
treatment  except  that  we  were  not  to  allow  any  one  to  sus- 
pect her  existence,  I  did  my  best  to  make  her  as  comfort- 
able as  circumstances  permitted,  and  talked  with  her  when 
I  could  do  so  with  safety. 

"  A  year  after  she  came  to  us  we  moved  to  this  place. 
The  land  was  bought  and  the  house  built  with  the  money 
that  was  paid  my  husband  for  taking  charge  of  her,  and 
we  were  again  strictly  ordered  to  let  no  one  know  we  had 
such  an  inmate.     If  the  fact  of  her  existence  should  be  dis- 


242         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

covered  by  chance,  we  were  to  say  that  she  was  an  insane 
relative. 

"  By  this  time  I  knew  who  she  was,  and  soon  after  we 
came  here  I  learned  the  whole  of  her  sad  story  ;  but  what 
could  I  do  ?  What  could  any  one  do  ?  Were  we  not  all 
slaves,  bound  hand  and  foot  ?  Had  I  told  what  I  knew,  no 
good  would  have  come  of  it,  but  much  harm  to  her  as  well 
as  to  us.  Had  I  even  let  you  know  the  truth,  you  would 
have  been  powerless  to  help  her." 

"That  may  have  been  so  in  the  past,"  Philip  inter- 
rupted, "  but  now  there  is  a  change.  There  are  men  in 
the  country  who  dare  not  only  to  differ  with  Brigham 
Young,  but  to  defy  him." 

"  Have  you  dared  to  do  so  .•*" 

The  question  was  asked  kindly,  but  Philip's  pale  face 
flushed. 

"  I  have  been  a  coward  in  the  past,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will 
be  one  no  longer.  I  am  going  home,  to  sever  my  connec- 
tion with  this  iniquitous  system,  and  to  denounce  the  man 
who  stands  at  the  head  of  it." 

"  That  is  well.  I  pray  that  the  way  may  open  for  others 
to  do  so,"  and  she  glanced  at  her  husband.  "  I  have  felt 
that  a  day  of  deliverance  was  coming,  though  I  knew  not 
when  nor  how." 

"  That  day  may  be  farther  from  us  than  from  you,"  the 
husband  said,  addressing  Philip.  "  You  have  the  troops  to 
protect  you,  and  the  Gentiles  are  coming  in,  I  hear,  in 
great  numbers  ;  but  in  this  settlement  there  is  not  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  who  dares  to  disobey  counsel  in  the 
smallest  thing,  much  less  to  say  a  word  against  Mormon- 
ism.  And  yet  there  are  those  here  whose  wrongs  are 
greater  than  yours." 

"  Greater  than  mine  ?" 

**  Yes.     Deeds  have  been  done  within  sight  of  this  house 


A   MYSTEHY  SOLVED.  243 

for  which  devils  might  blush,  and  done,  too,  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord  ;  and  the  still  living  victims,  who  envy  the  dead, 
dare  not  utter  a  word  of  complaint." 

"  As  for  you,  the  revenge  that  was  planned  against  you 
and  yours  fell  short  of  its  mark  ;  for  though  your  mother 
has  been  kept  a  prisoner,  in  all  things  else  I  have  treated 
her  as  I  would  if  I  had  been  her  own  son." 

Here  the  woman  rose  and  opened  a  door  at  the  farther 
side  of  the  room. 

"  Come,"  she  said  to  Philip,  "  and  I  will  show  you  the 
place  in  which  your  mother  spent  the  last  years  of  her  life." 

He  followed  her  through  a  long  hall,  and  up  a  flight  of 
stairs,  but  on  the  landing  above  she  paused. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have  already 
put  my  life  and  the  life  of  my  husband  in  your  hands, 
and  now  that  I  am  about  to  give  you  all  that  your  mother 
has  left  behind  her,  I  am  putting  trust  in  your  wisdom  as 
well  as  in  your  honor." 

With  these  words  she  opened  the  door  and  admitted 
Philip  into  a  room  which  he  entered  with  feelings  that 
were  indescribable. 

It  was  in  no  respect  like  the  prison-cell  he  had  at  first 
pictured  to  himself.  The  floor  was  carpeted,  a  comfort- 
able bed  stood  in  one  corner  with  an  easy  chair  beside  it,  a 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  was  covered  with  books, 
and  a  writing-desk  filled  the  niche  between  the  windows. 
The  woman  went  directly  to  this  desk,  unlocked  it,  and 
took  out  a  sealed  packet. 

"  In  this,"  she  said,  "you  will  find  the  history  of  your 
mother's  life  since  the  day  she  left  you.  She  begged, 
almost  with  her  last  breath,  that  I  would  convey  it  to  her 
children,  and  I  promised,  without  knowing  of  any  way  in 
which  the  promise  could  be  fulfilled  ;  but  see,  a  way  has 
opened  already.     The  hand  of  God  is  in  this  thing." 


244         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

Philip  received  the  packet  with  irrepressible  emotion, 

"  Did  my  mother  know  ?  Did  she  hear  anything  of  us 
during  these  long  years  ?"  he  asked. 

"Until  she  came  to  us  she  heard  nothing,"  was  the 
answer,  *'  If  all  of  you  had  died  she  would  not  have 
known  ;  but  since  she  has  been  here  I  have  told  her  all  that 
I  could  learn  of  you  which  was  likely  to  give  her  any  hap- 
piness, and  that  which  I  knew  would  pain  her  I  have  kept 
from  her," 

Philip  dropped  his  eyes.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
there  was  little  in  his  own  history  which  it  would  have 
made  his  mother  happier  to  hear, 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said  at  length,  '*  that  you  should  not 
have  known  me,  and  that  I  do  not  recall  either  your  face 
or  your  name  as  that  of  one  who  must  have  been  our  neigh- 
bor." 

"  Fifteen  years  have  changed  all  of  us,"  she  answered  ; 
"  but  I  knew  you  again  when  you  spoke  to  us  at  the  grave. 
That  you  did  not  recognize  us  is  no  wonder,  for  we  had  been 
in  Salt  Lake  but  a  little  while  when  your  mother  came  to 
us,  and  afterward  we  avoided  you,  as  we  were  instructed 
to  do." 

**  And  yet  you  have  done  me  the  only  kindness  possible. 
You  have  cared  for  my  mother  as  if  she  had  been  your 
own.     I  will  never  forget  that," 

The  woman  looked  out  of  the  window,  *'  The  rain  is 
over,"  she  said,  "  and  the  people  will  soon  be  abroad.  For 
your  own  sake  as  well  as  for  ours,  you  must  not  linger  in 
the  settlement.  When  you  are  a  free  man,  remember  us. 
If  we  have  shown  any  kindness  to  you  or  yours,  that  will 
be  the  best  return  you  can  make." 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  SEALED  PACKET. 

**  Oct.  lo. — Once  more,  after  so  many  years  of  darkness, 
I  behold  the  light  of  day.  Once  more  I  look  out  upon  the 
sky  and  the  earth,  whose  face  I  never  hoped  to  see  again, 

"  Dear  God,  how  fair  is  thy  world  !  And  how  sweet  is 
a  human  voice — a  kindly  human  voice — after  the  long 
silence. 

"  This  day  it  is  five  years  since  I  had  the  last  sight  of 
the  faces  of  my  children.  I  should  not  know — I  could 
not  reckon  time  in  that  dark  cell  into  which  day  never 
penetrated  :  but  this  woman — no,  she  is  not  a  woman,  but 
an  angel,  to  risk  so  much  for  me — has  given  me  the  day 
and  the  date  ;  and  the  date  of  that  other  day — the  day  on 
which  I  was  torn  from  my  children — is  burned  into  my 
brain. 

"  Five  years  !  My  little  Blanche,  my  baby,  is  almost  a 
woman  now.  Oh  for  one  moment's  sight  of  her  sweet 
face  !  Day  after  day  I  sit  at  this  high  window,  and  watch 
the  street,  and  pray  God  to  send  my  children  this  way, 
but  they  never  come. 

"  Once  indeed  it  seemed  to  me  that  Philip  passed  by  on 
the  other  side — taller,  more  manly,  than  when  I  saw  him 
last — that  must  be — but  the  form  was  like  my  Philip,  and  he 
carried  his  head  as  my  brave  boy  did.  His  face  was  turn- 
ed away,  and  yet  it  was  he.    A  mother's  eyes  see  clearly." 

"  Oct  21. — My  eyes  are  blinded  with  grateful  tears,  for 
this  day  I  have  seen  my  little  girls  from  my  window.  My 
little  girls  !    They  are  women  now,  and  Catherine's  face 


246         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

is  like  the  one  I  used  to  see  in  my  mirror  years — oh  se 
many  years  ago. 

"  I  owe  it  all  to  the  good  angel  who  watches  over  me  in 
my  imprisonment,  for  though  she  dare  not  speak  to  my 
children,  or  make  herself  known  to  them  in  any  way,  she 
has  worked  through  others  so  that  my  daughters  should 
pass  by  the  house. 

"  How  many  hours  I  watched,  and  how  I  feared  her 
plan  would  fail !  I  dread  lest  she  should  risk  too  much  for 
me  ;  and  though  I  long — God  only  knows  how  I  long  for  a 
sight  of  my  lost  darlings — I  must  not  tell  her  all  that  is  in 
my  heart,  for  that  would  move  her  to  try  again  to  bring 
them  near  me ;  and  there  is  danger,  always  danger,  that 
she,  my  only  friend,  may  be  involved  in  my  fate." 

"  Nov.  12, — I  have  news  of  Louise — my  beautiful,  my 
darling,  my  wounded  dove.  She  is  here,  so  near  me, 
and  yet  she  cannot  know  that  her  mother  lives  !  Her 
mother,  who  has  given  more  than  life  for  her  ! 

"  My  good  angel  tells  me  too  that  Louise  is  not  unhappy. 
There  is  peace  in  her  face  and  in  her  voice. 

"  She  has  learned,  then,  the  secret  that  was  taught  me  in 
those  years  of  darkness.  She  is  not  alone  and  helpless  in 
the  hands  of  wicked  men.     Dear  God,  I  thank  thee  !" 

"March  \. — For  months  I  have  written  nothing.  A 
slow  fever,  brought  on,  I  fear,  by  those  longings  and  anx- 
ieties which  I  should  not  have  indulged,  has  made  me 
helpless — made  me  doubly  a  burden  to  my  only  friend.  And 
yet  she  will  not  allow  me  to  say  that.  She  has  tended  me 
like  a  child,  she  has  watched  over  me  like  a  sister,  and 
she  says  only  this  : 

"  '  All  that  I  can  do  is  a  poor  atonement  for  your 
wrongs,' 

"  I  can  guess  what  she  means,  and  yet  it  is  not  for  her 
to  make  atonement." 


THE  SEALED  PACKET.  847 

"  March  4. — I  have  learned  to-day  something  that  I 
never  knew  before — learned  what  took  place  that  day 
after  I  was  lured  to  my  prison. 

"  My  children  believe  me  dead.  They  have  been  taught 
that  my  reason  was  gone,  and  that  I  drowned  myself  in  the 
river  !  My  helpless  darlings  !  They  could  not  think  that 
anything  but  death  would  be  able  to  keep  their  mother 
from  them. 

"  I  can  see  the  terror  in  their  faces  when  they  came 
back  to  the  empty  house.  I  can  realize  what  they  felt 
when  that  cruel  tale  was  told  them.  But  they  were  very 
young,  and  God  is  good.  He  would  not  let  that  sorrow 
shadow  their  lives.  My  friend  thinks  the  little  home 
which  Philip  keeps  for  his  sisters  would  be  a  happy  one, 
if  the  man  who  took  their  mother  from  them  did  not  take 
their  bread  also. 

"  This  is  hard — and  hard  to  forgive — but  One  who  suf- 
fered the  utmost  malice  of  cruel  foes  forgave  them  with 
His  dying  breath." 

*'  March  10. — More  news  !  My  Catherine  has  been  a  wife 
for  two  months  and  more,  and  my  good  angel,  unable  to 
leave  the  house  because  I  must  be  cared  for,  had  not 
heard  of  it. 

"  A  wife's  lot  here  is  full  of  bitterness — of  more  than 
mortal  pain,     God  shield  my  darling  !" 

"  April  ^. — 1  am  to  go  far  away  from  my  darlings. 
And  yet,  what  does  it  matter,  since,  near  or  far,  I  am  sep- 
arated from  them  while  I  live  ? 

"  Still,  here,  at  this  window,  I  could  watch,  and  hope 
that  they  might  pass  by,  and  that  was  something.  The 
day  could  not  be  quite  a  blank  when  I  could  say  in  the 
morning, 

"  '  It  may  be  that  one  of  my  children  will  come  this 
way." 


24^         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

"  And  then  I  have  really  seen  my  little  girls,  and  Philip 
twice.     Once  I  saw  his  face  plainly. 

"  But  Louise — my  Louise,  my  beautiful  one — I  have  not 
had  the  faintest  glimpse  of  her ;  and  how  can  I  give  over 
my  watch  for  her,  and  go  away  without  the  sight  of  her 
face  ?" 

"May  21. — The  journey  is  over,  and  had  it  not  been  that 
each  hour  took  me  farther  from  my  children,  they  would 
have  been  happy  days.  I  breathed  the  fresh  free  air,  the 
sun  shone  on  me,  and  whenever  we  were  in  lonely  places, 
far  from  the  sight  of  those  who  would  have  been  spies  on 
us,  I  might  feel  the  dear  earth,  the  soil  of  God's  beautiful 
world,  under  my  feet. 

"  How  sweet  is  liberty !  It  seemed  sometimes  as 
though  I  must  break  away  from  those  who  cared  for  me  so 
kindly,  and  run  toward  the  mountains,  for  beyond  them 
must  be  freedom. 

"  Run  !  I  smile  at  myself  now,  for  I  could  not  walk  for 
an  hour,  and  a  year  ago  I  could  not  walk  at  all.  My 
limbs  were  cramped.  They  had  almost  grown  to  the 
shape  of  the  seat  to  which  I  was  chained. 

"  No,  liberty  is  not  for  me.  Yet  my  soul  is  not  in 
prison,  and  during  those  years  of  darkness,  when  chains 
were  on  my  body,  my  spirit  was  free." 

"  Au£^.  20. — My  friend,  my  guardian  angel,  who  has 
comforted  me  through  all  my  sorrows,  now  needs  that  I 
should  comfort  her.  Her  home  is  invaded,  her  husband 
is  taken  from  her,  and  another  woman  usurps  the  name 
and  place  of  wife  in  the  house.  What  are  my  sufferings 
now  compared  with  hers  ? 

"  She  comes  to  my  room,  to  my  prison,  which  I  may 
never  leave  alive,  as  to  a  sanctuary.  It  is  her  only  place 
of  refuge,  the  only  spot  where  she  is  safe  from  curious, 
unsympathizing  eyes,  or  from  the  sight  of  her  husband  and 


THE   SEALED  PACKET.  449 

that  other  woman,  who  claims  the  rights  of  a  wife.  She 
does  not  complain — she  is  one  of  those  who  would  die 
and  make  no  moan — but  her  dumb  despair  is  more  elo- 
quent than  the  most  impassioned  lamentations. 

"  And  yet  she  thinks  that  her  husband  loved  her  truly — 
loves  her  even  now — and  that  he  has  taken  that  other 
woman  only  because  he  was  counseled  to  do  so,  and  be- 
cause he  dared  not  disobey.  Would  a  husband  believe 
still  in  the  love  of  his  wife,  after  she  had  brought  another 
man  into  the  house  to  usurp  his  rights  and  to  claim  her 
as  his  own  ? 

"  The  patient  endurance  of  these  wives,  and  the  love 
that  outlives  the  husband's  baseness  and  treachery,  touches 
me,  and  yet  it  angers  me.  It  was  never  meant  that  any 
good  woman,  much  less  an  angel  like  this  wronged  wife, 
should  waste  her  love  on  a  man  who  tramples  it  under 
foot." 

'*  Nov.  4. — A  better  day  has  dawned  for  my  friend,  if 
indeed  there  can  be  a  better  or  a  worse  to  a  wrong  like 
hers.  The  other  woman  has  been  sent  away  to  a  settle- 
ment twenty  miles  distant,  and  the  husband  goes  there 
but  seldom.  He  is  forced  to  stay  at  home  on  my  account 
— so  I  am  told.  The  man  who  placed  me  here  thinks  a 
woman  cannot  be  trusted  to  guard  me,  and  so  my  friend  is 
not  left  alone. 

"  I  cannot  understand  her.  She  seems  almost  happy 
when  week  after  week  passes  without  the  expression  of  a 
wish  on  the  part  of  her  husband  to  go  to  the  other  settle- 
ment, and  yet  she  knows  that  he  will  go  by  and  by — 
knows  he  calls  that  woman  wife,  and  that  she  may  be  the 
mother  of  his  children.  What  a  life  !  What  a  fate  !  And 
yet,  it  may  be  the  fate  of  my  own  daughters." 

"  Dec,  30,  '55. — I  have  heard  that  my  Louise  is  mar- 
ried, and  married  to  a  good  man  who  loves  her  ;  and  bet- 


25©        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA  TOUR. 

ter  still,  that  both  she  and  Catherine  have  left  the  Terri- 
tory with  their  husbands,  who  have  been  sent  on  missions, 
the  one  west,  the  other  south. 

"  Is  not  God  watching  over  my  children,  and  doing  far 
more  for  them  than  I  could  if  I  were  free  ?  Neither  of  my 
daughters  will  ever  return  voluntarily — of  that  I  am  sure." 

"  Feb.  I,  '56. — The  winter  passes  slowly.  I  find  it  hard 
to  repress  my  longings  for  liberty.  Often  I  look  to  the 
distant  mountains,  and  a  wild  wish  to  fly  to  them  takes 
possession  of  me.  I  know  that  escape  is  impossible  ;  and 
yet,  now  that  I  can  look  out  on  those  who  pass  to  and  fro 
beneath  my  window,  on  the  earth,  that  my  foot  must 
never  press,  on  the  stars — the  same  stars  that  looked  down 
on  my  childhood — the  thought  of  freedom  is  with  me  con- 
tinually. I  dream  of  it  at  night,  and  a  feverish  restlessness 
possesses  me  by  day. 

"  This  is  not  as  it  should  be.  I  was  calmer  in  that 
dark  cell,  where  I  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing. 

"  Death  will  open  my  prison  doors  by  and  by.  Until 
then  let  me  wait  in  peace." 

"  April  10,  '56. — Ought  I  not  to  be  thankful  and  con- 
tent ?  Word  comes  to  me  through  this  dear  friend,  who 
puts  aside  her  own  sorrows  that  she  may  serve  me,  and 
does  her  utmost  to  get  news  of  my  children,  that  both  my 
daughters  are  safe  in  California,  and  with  their  brothers. 
I  have  now  only  Philip  and  little  Blanche  to  be  anxious 
about ;  and  surely,  since  Heaven  has  so  watched  over  the 
others,  I  may  dismiss  anxiety  even  for  them." 

"  Aug.  12. — I  have  been  very  ill  again.  I  thought  the 
hour  of  my  deliverance  was  surely  at  hand.  Those  who 
have  gone  before  seemed  waiting  for  me,  and  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  a  face  like  my  mother's  bent  down  and 
smiled  upon  me. 

"  Liberty,  and  rest,  and  peace  seemed  already  mine,  amd 


THE  SEALED  PACKET.  251 

when  the  gates  that  were  opening  closed  again,  and  I 
found  myself  left  outside — left  here — I  could  not  help  a 
feeling  of  bitter  disappointment. 

"  Patience,  my  soul !  The  years  that  seem  so  long  will 
be  but  a  speck,  an  atom,  when  thou  lookest  back  on  them 
from  the  Paradise  of  God." 

"  Oct.  5. — Again  I  have  been  the  witness  of  pangs 
which  make  my  own  afflictions  seem  light.  The  woman 
who  has  been  taken  into  this  family  is  a  mother.  The 
wife  whose  place  she  has  usurped  is  childless,  and  the  hus- 
band, when  he  learned  that  he  was  a  father,  sent  for  the 
mother  and  the  babe.  They  have  been  brought  here,  and 
are  in  the  house  to-day. 

"The  father,  proud  of  the  little  one,  and  forgetting 
everything  else  in  his  joy,  has  shown  plainly  that  the 
mother  of  his  child  is  dearer  to  him  than  the  wife  of  his 
youth,  who  has  sacrificed  all  things  for  his  sake  ;  and  she, 
unhappy,  helpless  victim,  after  making  superhuman  efforts 
to  mask  her  sufferings  and  treat  the  woman  and  child  as 
though  they  had  a  right  to  be  here,  has  at  last  succumbed 
to  her  anguish.  Yesterday  she  sank  upon  the  floor  of  my 
room  in  a  swoon  that  was  like  death.  Fortunately,  I  was 
able  to  restore  her  without  help,  and  in  an  hour  she  recov- 
ered so  far  as  to  be  able  to  creep  down  the  steps,  holding 
on  to  the  railings  ;  but  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway  I  heard 
her  fall  again. 

"  To-day  I  have  been  waited  on  by  a  servant,  who  had 
not  previously  been  permitted  to  know  of  my  existence,  and 
who,  it  seems,  has  orders  not  to  speak  to  me ;  so  I  can 
learn  nothing  of  my  friend's  state  from  her,  but  I  fear  she 
is  very  ill.  If  able  to  leave  her  bed  she  would  surely 
come  to  me,  for  now,  as  before,  my  room  is  her  only  sanc- 
tuary." 

"  Nov.  20. — To-day  I  have  seen  my  friend  again  for  the 


252         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

first  time  In  many  weeks.  She  is  only  the  shadow  of  her 
former  self,  and  her  hair  has  grown  as  white  as  mine, 
which  was  blanched  in  those  years  of  darkness. 

"  The  woman  and  child  have  been  taken  away,  and  she 
feels  this  to  be  a  relief,  but  she  no  longer  cheats  herself 
with  the  belief  that  her  husband's  heart  is  still  hers.  She 
has  talked  with  me  more  freely  than  ever  before,  and  I 
realize  something  of  the  daily  martyrdom  endured  by  her 
and  women  like  her— of  whom,  alas  !  there  are  hundreds 
on  every  side." 

"  7'^^y  9.  '57' — I  have  heard  to-day  that  both  Philip  and 
Blanche  are  married.  There  is  nothing  in  Philip's  mar- 
riage to  sadden  me,  for  he  is  like  his  father,  and  the 
woman  who  has  given  her  happiness  into  his  keeping  will 
never  have  cause  to  regret  it.  Her  love  will  be  his  guid- 
ing star,  and  his  home  will  be  the  most  sacred  spot  on 
earth  to  him.  His  wife  will  never  know  a  fate  like  that  of 
my  poor  friend,  who  is  striving  to  bury  her  love  for  her  hus- 
band in  the  same  grave  in  which  she  has  buried  happiness 
and  hope. 

"  But  my  little  Blanche — my  baby,  who  has  grown  to 
womanhood  without  a  mother's  care — what  will  her  fate 
be  ?  Has  she  fallen  into  the  hands  of  one  who  will  sacrifice 
her  to  the  demands  of  this  monstrous  system,  as  coolly  as 
pagans  elsewhere  sacrifice  a  lamb  ?  Alas  !  there  are  none 
near  her  to  protect  her,  and  whatever  her  sorrows  may 
be,  her  tears  cannot  be  shed  on  her  mother's  bosom. 

"  Aug.  12,  '57. — I  have  not  written  anything  of  late, 
because  the  uneventful  days  pass  with  nothing  to  mark 
their  coming  and  going  except  the  rising  and  setting  of 
the  sun. 

"  In  spite  of  myself,  in  spite  of  all  the  lessons  of  patience 
which  I  have  learned,  an  unutterable  weariness  possesses 
me  when  there  is  nothing — absolutely  nothing — to  break 


THE  SEALED  PACKET.  253 

the  monotony  of  my  imprisonment ;  and  then  when  some- 
thing comes  to  my  knowledge  which  rouses  me  from  the 
stupor  that  is  creeping  over  me,  the  old  restlessness  and 
longing,  the  feeling  that  makes  a  caged  bird  beat  its  wings 
against  the  bars  of  its  prison,  comes  back  to  me. 

"  Yesterday  I  sat  at  my  window,  seeing  for  hours  only 
the  long  stretch  of  dusty  highway  upon  which  not  a  living 
thing  appeared,  when  at  length,  late  in  the  afternoon,  an 
irregular  mass  came  in  sight  in  the  dim  distance,  and  as  I 
continued  to  watch  it  resolved  itself  into  a  long  train  of 
wagons,  with  horsemen,  footmen,  and  cattle — some  in  ad- 
vance, some  in  the  rear.  The  train  passed  directly  under 
my  window.  The  animals  moved  slowly,  as  though  worn 
out  with  a  long  journey  ;  the  teams  seemed  to  drag  the 
wagons  with  difficulty,  and  the  people  looked  travel- 
stained  and  weary  ;  but  there  was  something  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  company  which  told  that  they  were  not 
seeking  a  home  here  ;  and  as  they  passed  on  I  noticed  that 
persons  in  the  settlement  who  were  by  the  roadside  hasten- 
ed in-doors  as  the  train  drew  near. 

"  In  the  evening,  when  I  asked  my  friend  the  meaning 
of  what  I  had  seen,  she  answered, 

"  '  They  are  emigrants  on  the  way  to  California.' 

"  But  she  seemed  disinclined  to  talk  about  them,  and 
no  questions  that  I  asked  brought  me  any  more  definite 
information. 

"On  the  way  to  California!  If  I  had  known  of  their 
coming  I  might — what  might  I  not  have  done  ?  It  seemed 
to  me  at  first  that  I  should  have  let  myself  down  from  my 
window  in  the  night,  and  found  some  hiding-place  on  their 
route,  where  I  could  lie  concealed  till  they  passed,  and 
then  throw  myself  on  their  protection. 

"  But  if  this  had  been  as  impracticable  as  all  my  other 
plans  of  flight,  I  could  at  least  have  dropped  a  letter  ai 


254         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

they  passed,  that  would  have  told  of  my  fate,  and  begged 
them  to  carry  the  word  to  my  sons — my  sons,  who  would 
move  Heaven  and  earth  to  release  their  mother  from 
prison. 

"  The  chance  that  I  have  lost  is  perhaps  one  that  will 
never  be  within  my  reach  again,  and  a  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment that  amounts  to  wretchedness  shows  me  plainly 
how  much  my  soul  needs  to  be  disciplined  to  patience — 
how  little  I  know  of  true  resignation." 

"Dec.  lo,  '57. — An  awful  crime — a  deed  whose  black- 
ness might  quench  the  light  of  day — has  come  to  my  knowl- 
edge. I  am  suffocating  with  horror.  Would  that  I  had 
remained  ignorant  of  it.  A  bloody  vision  follows  me, 
haunts  me,  night  and  day,  since  the  fearful  tale  came  to 
my  ears. 

"  After  those  strangers  passed  this  way,  and  while  I  was 
still  grieving  over  my  lost  opportunity,  I  began  to  perceive 
from  my  window  the  appearance  of  unusual  idleness  on 
the  part  of  the  men  of  the  settlement,  who  are  farmers,  and 
should  at  this  season  have  been  attending  to  their  crops. 
They  were  congregated  in  groups  by  the  roadside,  and 
those  who  were  so  near  that  I  could  observe  their  faces,  I 
saw  looked  gloomy  and  sullen.  Finally,  one  night,  I  heard 
the  heavy  tramp  of  many  feet,  going  in  and  out  of  this 
house  until  midnight. 

"  I  slept  none  that  night.  A  vague  uneasiness,  a  terror 
for  which  I  could  not  account,  kept  me  wakeful,  and  be- 
fore day  I  rose  from  my  bed,  and  sitting  down  beside  my 
window  watched  the  stars  until  they  began  to  fade. 

"  When  the  day  broke,  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  high- 
way, and  presently  a  band  of  mounted  men  issued  from  a 
little  lane  near  the  house.  Many  of  the  faces  I  had  seen 
before,  as  they  passed  day  after  day,  and  among  them  I 
recognized  my  jailer,  whose  wife,  contrary  to  her  usual 


THE   SEALED  PACKET.  255 

custom,  had  kept  away  from  my  room  the  day  before, 
sending  the  servant  with  my  meals. 

"  All  of  the  men  were  armed  with  guns,  and  as  I  watched 
them  they  rode  away  southward,  two  abreast. 

"  That  day,  and  for  many  days  afterward,  I  could  not 
help  seeing  that  my  friend  was  in  some  great  trouble, 
which  she  refused  to  confide  to  me.  Thus  nearly  two 
weeks  passed,  and  one  morning,  as  I  was  looking  south- 
ward, I  saw  the  same  body  of  men  whose  departure  I  had 
watched,  riding  into  the  settlement. 

"  As  they  came  near  I  perceived  that  Wells  was  in  ad- 
vance, and  that  he  carried  something  on  his  horse  in  front 
of  him.  As  he  reached  the  house  I  saw,  to  my  surprise, 
that  it  was  a  child — a  little  girl,  perhaps  four  years  old. 
He  dismounted  at  a  side  door,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
leading  to  my  room. 

"  I  heard  his  wife  open  the  door — heard  her  exclamation, 
not  only  of  surprise,  but  of  dismay  and  terror — heard  the 
man  say, 

"  '  Hush,  for  God's  sake  ! ' 

"  And  then  both  seemed  to  pass  into  an  inner  room. 

"  After  that  I  saw  no  more  of  my  friend  for  many  days, 
and  when  she  entered  my  room  again  she  was  changed 
more,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  even  during  those  weeks  of 
sickness  the  year  before. 

"  I  knew  something  was  wrong.  An  air  of  mystery 
brooded  over  the  house.  I  heard  the  child  sometimes — 
once  it  climbed  up  the  stairs  leading  to  my  door,  and  more 
than  once  I  distinguished  a  plaintive  cry  of, 

"  '  Mamma  !  mamma  !     Take  me  to  my  mamma  ! ' 

"  It  was  a  wail  that  pierced  my  heart.  How  often  must 
my  own  children  have  uttered  that  cry  ! 

"  When  I  spoke  to  my  friend  about  the  child,  she  turned 
a  white,  terrified  face  toward  me,  saying. 


25^         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

"  '  How  did  you  know  ?  Have  you  seen — have  yoo 
heard  anything  ? ' 

' '  Why  protract  the  recital  ?  In  the  end  I  learned  the 
whole  dreadful  truth.  The  company  of  emigrants  had 
been  followed  by  bodies  of  armed  men  from  the  settle- 
ments, surrounded,  and  butchered  in  cold  blood.  Neither 
age  nor  sex  had  been  spared.  Only  a  few  of  the  youngest 
children  were  rescued  at  the  last  by  men  who  could  not 
quite  forget  their  own  children.  The  little  girl  in  the 
house  was  one  of  these. 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  dwell  here.  There  is  only  one  thing 
which  I  feel  compelled  to  leave  on  record,  and  it  is  this : 

"  The  man  whom  this  people  look  up  to  as  their  Prophet 
ordered  the  butchery,  and  the  men  who  did  the  deed  were 
only  his  instruments.  Many  of  them  went  most  unwilling- 
ly. Some  of  them  took  no  part  in  the  massacre,  and  re- 
turned home  with  their  faith  in  this  man  and  his  teachings 
destroyed  forever.  My  friend's  husband  is  one  of  those 
last  named.  He  declares  to  his  wife  that  he  cannot  re- 
main here,  and  that  he  will  watch  night  and  day  for  an  op- 
portunity to  escape. 

"  Should  this  be  so,  I  too  may  yet  be  able  to  flee  from 
this  blood-stained  spot. 

"  Oci.  lo,  *s8. — This  day  completes  the  tenth  year  of  my 
captivity.  At  times  I  think  that  the  hope  and  even  the  wish 
to  escape  has  died  out  altogether,  and  that  I  shall  wait  in 
peace  for  the  Angel  of  Death  ;  and  then  some  word,  some 
rumor  breaks  in  upon  my  quiet,  and  for  weeks  I  am  in  a 
state  of  unrest. 

"  Of  late  I  have  had  news  of  my  elder  sons.  They  have 
been  greatly  prospered,  and  they  dwell  among  a  brave 
and  generous  people,  who  would  aid  them  in  any  effort  to 
deliver  their  mother  from  prison,  if  they  knew — but  they 
do  not  even  dream  that  I  am  still  among  the  living.     Like 


THE   SEALED  PACKET.  257 

my  children  here,  they  have  mourned  me  as  dead  these 
many  years. 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  better  that  they  should  not 
know  the  truth.  They  might  try  to  help  me  and  fail,  for  it 
seems  that  in  these  valleys  the  power  of  the  man  who  de- 
creed my  imprisonment  is  absolute.  No  one  even  dares 
call  him  to  account  for  the  butchery  of  those  helpless 
women  and  innocent  children  who  were  so  cruelly  put  to 
death  last  year. 

"  And  tor  me,  does  it  matter  how  or  where  I  spend  the 
little  remnant  of  my  life  ?  No.  Time  is  so  short,  eternity 
so  long,  that  even  if  I  were  doomed  to  live  out  my  three- 
score years  and  ten  within  these  walls,  it  would  be  but  like 
tarrying  for  a  night  at  an  inn  that  did  not  please  me. 

'"April  12,  '62. — My  sight,  which  began  to  fail  four 
years  ago,  and  which  I  thought  I  should  have  lost  entirely, 
is  in  a  measure  restored,  and  yet  the  light  is  painful,  and  I 
can  no  longer  solace  myself  with  books  or  beguile  the  te- 
dious days  by  watching  the  world  outside  from  my  window. 

"  At  first  I  felt  this  to  be  a  great  affliction,  but  now  I  ac- 
knowledge in  it  the  same  Hand  that  has  led  me  hitherto. 

' '  Cut  off  once  more  from  the  sight  of  this  world,  I  turn 
to  the  world  of  spirits — the  world  where  my  beloved,  who 
have  escaped  from  the  straits  and  burdens,  the  turmoil 
and  unrest  of  this  present  life,  abide  in  blissful  peace. 

"  My  eyes,  closed  to  thy  creatures,  are  opened  to  behold 
thee,  oh.  Uncreated  Good  ! 

"  I  behold  the  love  that  rules  and  permeates  the  uni- 
verse. I  have  repose  and  liberty,  because  that  which  has 
no  metes  nor  bounds  is  at  once  my  home  and  my  resting- 
place." 

"  March,  '65. — For  the  last  time,  perhaps,  I  attempt  to 
trace  here  my  thoughts  and  my  wishes.  Strength  and 
sight  alike  are  almost  gone ;  but  while  a  little  pf  life  rq- 


25*         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

mains,  I  desire  to  make  a  final  request  of  my  children, 
should  this  which  I  have  written  ever  fall  into  their  hands. 

"  I  pray  them  all,  and  especially  my  sons,  to  harbor  no 
thought  of  vengeance  against  the  author  of  my  wrongs. 
With  all  my  heart,  with  all  my  soul,  I  forgive  him,  and  I 
ask  my  children  to  forgive. 

"  No  real  harm  has  come  to  me.  That  which  was  evil 
intended  has  worked  for  good.  I  have  peace,  I  have  joy 
within  these  walls,  and  my  prison  has  become  a  sanctuary 
wherein  I  dwell  safely  until  the  doors  of  my  Father's 
house  are  opened  to  receive  me. 

"  Nov.,  '68. — For  many  months  I  have  dwelt  in  utter 
darkness  ;  but  I  know  in  my  soul  that  the  dawn  of  a  per- 
fect day  is  very  near.  The  Angel  of  Death  waits  close  at 
hand.  I  shall  welcome  him  with  joy — and  yet,  something 
within  me  pleads  for  my  children — begs  that  they  might  be 
permitted  to  look  once  more  on  their  mother's  face. 

"  How  clearly  I  can  see  them  all,  here  in  the  dark — my 
little  Blanche  in  her  cradle,  Catherine  and  Philip  sitting 
on  the  nursery  floor  beside  her,  and  Louise  and  her  brothers 
at  the  round  table  between  the  windows.  How  the  light 
that  streams  in  above  the  table  shines  on  their  faces,  on 
my  boys*  curls,  on  the  baby's  little  hands  ! 

"  Dear  God,  wilt  thou  not  suffer  me  to  take  this  picture 
with  me  into  thy  heaven  ? 

"  It  grows  colder.  My  hands  can  scarce  hold  the  pen 
with  which  I  trace  these  words  in  the  darkness. 

'*  Farewell  Life.     Welcome  Death. 

"  My  children,  my  little  ones,  good-by.  Dear  God,  k?ep 
them — may — " 

The  manuscript  closed  abruptly.  The  good  woman  of 
the  house  had  sealed  it  up  religiously,  as  she  found  it  on  the 
Uttl?  tabl?, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  REVOLT. 

It  was  midnight.  The  rain  beat  against  the  closed 
shutters,  and  the  wind  that  swept  round  the  house  and 
shook  the  leafless  branches  of  the  trees  outside  wailed  like 
a  lost  spirit. 

Within,  the  fire  had  burned  low  and  the  lamplight  fell  on 
two  pale  faces,  bent  together  over  a  yellow  and  blotted 
manuscript,  traced  in  a  hand  almost  illegible. 

Philip  La  Tour  and  his  wife  were  reading  the  last  words 
of  the  dead — reading  with  difficulty,  for  tears  had  stained 
the  paper,  and  the  trembling  hand  had  more  than  once 
refused  to  obey  the  guiding  will,  leaving  words  and  sen- 
tences unfinished. 

Amazement  and  horror,  fierce  indignation  against  the 
author  of  such  wrongs,  and  boundless  tenderness  for  the 
patient  victim,  struggled  together  in  their  hearts  as  they 
followed  the  record  of  those  years  of  captivity  ;  until 
at  last  the  mother's  farewell  words  to  the  children  of  her 
love  quite  overcame  her  son,  and  bowing  his  head  over  the 
paper  which  her  dying  hands  had  touched,  the  strong  man 
wept  like  a  little  child. 

His  wife  mingled  her  tears  with  his,  and  with  those 
tears  all  bitterness  and  heart-burning  melted  away,  and 
the  two  whom  man  had  put  asunder  felt  once  more  that 
God  had  joined  them  together. 

"  My  mother  asks  me  to  forgive  her  oppressor,"  Philip 
said  after  a  long  silence.  "  I  may  forego  the  desire  for 
vengeance — I  must,  since  she  asks  it — but  if  the  law  is 


26o         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

ever  able  to  reach  him,  I  ought  to  aid  in  bringing  him  to 
justice." 

"  You  will,  if  that  time  ever  comes,"  the  wife  replied  ; 
"  but  there  is  little  probability  that  his  crimes  will  be  pun- 
ished in  this  world.  During  the  last  month,  while  you 
have  been  away,  he  has  compelled  many  of  those  who  have 
been  attending  the  services  at  the  hall  to  make  a  public 
confession  of  their  "  sin"  and  take  their  children  from 
the  school  ;*  but  that  is  not  the  worst.  Many  of  the  Gen- 
tiles are  going  away,  and  the  people  think  there  will  not 
be  twenty  of  them  left  here  in  the  spring.  It  seems  as 
though  Brigham  Young  will  rule  while  he  lives,  and  con- 
tinue to  be  the  tyrant  that  he  has  been,  unless,  as  I  said 
a  good  while  ago,  some  of  us  right  here  gain  courage  to 
defy  him." 

"Jessie!"  Her  husband  spoke  quickly,  and  with  the 
glow  of  a  newly-formed  resolution  on  his  face.  "  To- 
morrow is  Sunday.  Will  you  go  with  me  in  the  morning 
to  the  hall  ?" 

"  You  need  not  ask  that.  I  will  be  only  too  glad  to  go 
— and  what  then  ?'  * 

"  We  will  be  called  to  account  in  less  than  two  days, 
and  that  will  give  me  an  opportunity  of  defining  my  posi- 
tion. " 

"  They  will  cut  you  off  from  the  Church." 

"  Yes,  without  doubt ;  but  I  shall  not  wait  for  that  to — 
Jessie,  I  cannot  put  in  words  what  I  mean,  but  I  will  not 
delay  the  only  reparation  I  can  make  you.  From  this 
hour  no  one  shall  ever  come  between  us.  Before  another 
week  ends  everybody  shall  know  that  I  call  no  other 
woman  '  wife.'  " 

The  hour  so  long  waited  for  had  come  at  last ! — the  hour 

*See  Appendix,  Note  R,  page  353. 


THE  REVOLT.  2ft< 

tor  the  rending  of  his  bonds,  the  beginning  of  a  new  life, 
and  the  hour  in  which  to  make  tardy  atonement  for  the 
wrongs  of  years. 

Does  the  reader  wonder  at  the  wife  who  could  accept 
this  atonement  without  betraying  by  look  or  word  any 
memory  of  the  bitter  past  ?  Does  it  seem  a  thing  incredi- 
ble that  in  the  first  moments  of  reunion  all  the  jealousy 
and  heart-burning,  the  anguish  and  despair  of  those  miser- 
able years,  should  be  buried  out  of  sight  ? 

It  may  be  equally  hard  to  understand  how  a  man  could 
speak  without  emotion  of  sending  away  a  woman  whom  he 
had  called  wife  for  five  years,  and  who  had  borne  him  a 
child  ;  but  in  the  present  case  Philip  knew  that  Ruth  cared 
for  nothing  except  his  money,  and  that  the  gift  of  the  house 
she  lived  in  and  of  the  means  to  support  her  and  to  buy  all 
the  pretty  trifles  she  coveted,  would  easily  reconcile  her  to 
the  separation.  Had  she  loved  him,  his  task  would  have 
been  a  much  harder  one,  and  in  his  heart  he  was  thankful 
that  the  woman  chosen  for  him  had  proved  incapable  of 
love. 

Morning  dawned,  serene  and  cloudless — the  morning  of 
the  day  on  which  Philip  La  Tour  was  to  assert  his  newly- 
acquired  freedom.  When  ten  o'clock  came,  and  the  streets 
were  filled  with  people  on  their  way  to  the  Mormon  ser- 
vices in  the  various  wards,  he  set  out  for  the  hall  with  his 
wife  on  his  arm,  and  leading  his  little  boy  by  the  hand. 
Neighbors  and  acquaintances  passed  him  as  he  turned  in 
at  the  gate,  and  the  policemen  appointed  to  watch  those 
who  entered  the  forbidden  portals  were  so  close  to  him  that 
he  could  have  touched  them  with  his  hand,  but  for  the  first 
time  in  twenty  years  he  was  acting  without  reference  to  the 
will  of  another,  and  he  scarcely  noticed  their  presence. 

Inside  the  small,  plain  building  about  fifty  persons  were 


262         THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA  TOUR. 

seated,  awaiting  the  hour  of  service.  Nearly  one  third  ol 
this  number  were  recusant  Mormons,  chiefly  women. 

All  eyes  were  upon  Philip  La  Tour  as  he  walked  slowly 
up  the  aisle  to  a  seat  in  full  view  of  the  congregation.  Had 
he  come  alone  it  is  probable  that  his  former  friends  would 
have  misunderstood  his  motives,  but  a  man  who  brought 
his  family  with  him  to  such  a  place  could  not  be  a  spy — 
this  was  what  the  faces  of  those  who  knew  him  expressed 
as  he  took  his  seat  among  them. 

As  he  passed  out  at  the  close  of  the  services,  the  police- 
men placed  themselves  directly  in  his  way,  so  that  he  was 
compelled  to  speak  to  them  and  ask  them  to  make  room 
for  his  wife. 

They  moved  a  couple  of  steps,  and  one  of  them  made 
a  sign  which  he  understood  perfectly  well,  but  which,  in 
his  present  frame  of  mind,  did  not  disturb  him  in  the 
least. 

Before  noon  the  next  day  he  was  waited  on  by  a  commit- 
tee of  his  brethren  and  informed  that  it  had  been  thought 
best  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  explain  his  extraordi- 
nary conduct.  This  was  an  unusual  act  of  grace,  as  he 
knew,  but  the  way  in  which  he  improved  it  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  lead  to  its  repetition. 

In  the  strongest  language  at  his  command,  he  denounced 
the  system  which  enslaved  all  who  embraced  it,  and  which 
taught  treachery,  rapine,  murder,  and  every  species  of 
crime  as  sacred  duties. 

His  wife,  who  was  present,  defined  her  own  position 
with  equal  clearness,  and  the  members  of  the  committee 
withdrew  in  silence,  but  with  a  look  on  their  faces  that 
boded  no  good  to  the  rebels. 

In  a  few  days  they  were  both  summoned  to  trial.  They 
paid  no  attention  to  the  summons,  and  the  day  after  the 
one  set  for  their  trial  they  received  formal  notice  that  they 


THE  REVOLT.  263 

were  cut  off  from  the  Church  of  Latter  Day  Saints  and 
delivered  over  to  the  buffetings  of  Satan. 

"  Free  at  last !"  These  were  Jessie's  first  words  when 
her  husband  finished  reading  the  notice  aloud.  "Such 
liberty  is  worth  any  price.  We  ought  not  to  think  it  too 
dearly  bought,  even  if  it  costs  life." 

*'  It  will  not  cost  life,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  day  that  I 
told  you,  more  than  three  years  ago,  would  surely  come,  is 
here.  You  know  we  are  not  the  first  who  have  been  cut 
off,  and  our  friends  are  still  alive.  Our  enemies  have  the 
will  to  destroy  us,  and,  for  that  matter,  the  power  also ; 
but  Brigham  Young  knows  that  any  more  violence,  in  the 
present  condition  of  affairs,  would  be  certain  to  react  upon 
himself ;  so  we  are  quite  safe — at  least  by  daylight." 

"  That  is  what  I  was  just  going  to  speak  about,"  inter- 
rupted the  wife,  who,  full  of  courage  where  she  alone  was 
concerned,  yet  trembled  for  her  husband.  "  I  don't  think 
you  will  be  attacked  by  day,  but  you  must  not  go  out  after 
dark.     Only   the    night    before   you   came   home,    Henry 

R was  fired  at  by  some  person  in  the  shadow  of  the 

trees  beside  his  own  gate." 

Philip  could  not  smile  at  his  wife's  fears.  He  knew, 
better  than  she,  the  vindictiveness  of  the  despot  against 
whom  they  had  rebelled — knew  also  that  if  he  could  be 
**  taken  care  of"  in  such  a  way  that  the  act  could  not  be 
traced  directly  to  the  Church  authorities,  his  life  would  not 
be  worth  a  moment's  purchase ;  but  he  was  no  coward 
(though  when  he  looked  back  on  the  past  he  called  himself 
one),  and  he  faced  the  dangers  of  his  position  with  the  \ 
utmost  calmness. 

In  the  mean  time  his  separation  from  Ruth  had  become 
an  accomplished  fact,  and  he  once  more  had  a  home. 

In  the  domestic  life  of  Utah  that  sacred  word  is  a 
mockery,  and  none  felt  this  more  keenly  than  the  man 


264        THE  FATE  OF  MADAME  LA  TOUR. 

who  had  conscientiously  sacrificed  his  own  happiness  and 
that  of  the  dearly-loved  wife  of  his  youth  on  the  altar  of  a 
false  faith.  It  is  true  that  his  case  was  exceptional,  and 
that  the  majority  of  his  brethren  who  had  embraced  polyg- 
amy had  done  so  from  choice  ;  yet  even  among  this  class 
there  were  many  who  repented  of  the  step  they  had  taken, 
and  who  would  gladly  have  given  all  the  promises  of  future 
exaltation  which  their  religion  held  out  to  them  for  a  little 
present  peace. 

Women  are  the  greatest  sufferers  from  polygamy,  but 
men  who  transgress  the  laws  of  God  and  nature  do  not  es- 
cape the  penalties  of  those  laws. 

Philip  La  Tour,  pure-minded  and  honorable  in  spite  of 
Mormonism,  and  loving  his  wife  with  the  first  and  strong- 
est love  of  early  manhood,  had  suffered  intensely  when  he 
was  made  to  believe  that  God  required  him  to  give  another 
woman  the  same  place  he  had  given  her  ;  but  he  suffered 
still  more,  if  possible,  in  the  years  that  followed,  and  the 
first  hour  of  real  happiness  he  had  known  since  his  second 
marriage  was  when  he  sat  down  beside  Jessie  to  tell  her 
that  he  was  free  from  all  ties  save  that  which  bound  him 
to  her. 

Danger  and  death  might  lie  in  his  path,  the  friends  of  a 
lifetime  might  become  his  bitter  foes,  his  riches  might  take 
wings,  but  none  of  these  things  moved  him  while  he  had 
the  approval  of  his  own  conscience  and  the  restored  trust 
of  the  woman  he  loved. 

Nor  was  he  altogether  without  friends  and  sympathiz- 
ers outside  of  his  own  family.  A  number  of  prominent 
citizens  had  already  been  cut  off  from  the  Church — some 
because  they  refused  to  pay  the  exorbitant  sums  demand- 
ed of  them  as  tithing,  others  because  they  had  engaged  in 
mining,  a  pursuit  which  all  good  Saints  were  imperatively 
ordered  to  have  nothing  to  do  with,  and  still  others  be- 


THE  kEV^OLT.  265 

rause  they  had  questioned  the  right  of  the  Prophet  "  to  dic- 
/ate  to  them  in  all  things  both  temporal  and  spiritual" — a 
right  which  he  proclaimed  publicly  in  the  very  words  quoted, 
fts  vested  in  him  by  a  decree  of  the  Almighty. 

These  men  who  had  been  lately  excommunicated  formed 
I  community  by  themselves.  They  were  not  so  thoroughly 
freed  from  the  prejudices  of  years  as  to  be  able  to  affiliate 
at  once  with  the  Gentiles,  whom  they  had  regarded  for  a 
fifetime  as  their  natural  enemies.  Many  of  them  also  still 
clung  to  polygamy — probably,  as  has  been  said,  because  it 
clung  to  them,  and  they  could  not  easily  let  it  go. 

With  La  Tour,  however,  the  case  was  different.  As  a 
Mormon,  he  had  conscientiously  obeyed  all  the  require- 
ments of  the  Church  because  he  believed  them  to  be  also 
the  commands  of  God,  but  the  uprooting  of  his  faith  in 
that  system  included  a  renunciation  of  all  that  grew  out 
of  it. 

Polygamy  and  hatred  of  the  Gentiles  belonged  to  Mor- 
>nonism,  and  were  renounced  with  it ;  there  was  nothing, 
therefore,  to  prevent  either  him  or  his  wife  from  joining 
themselves  to  the  little  band  of  Christians  who  taught  the 
doctrines  of  peace  and  good-will  to  men.  In  their  com- 
munion, realizing  at  last  that 

"  He  is  a  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free," 

Philip  found  it  possible  at  last  to  reconcile  the  claims  of 
conscience  with  the  dictates  of  reason.  .. . 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EPILOGUE. 

The  summer  of  1871.  In  a  pleasant  home  in  the  Golden 
State,  the  abode  of  wealth  and  refined  taste,  a  family 
group  awaits  the  return  of  the  master  of  the  house.  The 
lady,  young  and  fair,  is  a  stranger  to  us,  but  the  two 
bright-eyed  little  ones  who  rush  out  upon  the  veranda 
with  a  clamorous  welcome  for  "  Papa"  remind  us  of 
some  one  that  we  have  seen  before,  and  the  gentleman  they 
have  captured  and  are  dragging  in-doors  has  a  face  that  is 
familiar  to  us  in  spite  of  the  changes  which  time  has 
wrought. 

It  is  Francis  La  Tour,  at  present  the  happy  owner  of  a 
home  which,  we  venture  to  say,  fully  realizes  the  dreams 
that  cheered  him  in  the  days  when  he  wielded  pick  and 
shovel  in  Chespar  Gulch.  He  has  been  absent  for  a  day 
only,  though  one  would  judge  from  the  excitement  caused 
by  his  arrival  that  he  had  just  returned  from  a  voyage 
around  the  world. 

The  boy  and  girl,  one  on  either  side,  present  their  cap- 
tive to  mamma  with  delighted  cries.  La  Tour  salutes  his 
wife  in  a  very  lover-like  fashion  for  a  man  who  has  been 
ten  years  married,  and  as  soon  as  he  can  succeed  in  brib- 
ing his  small  captors  to  leave  him  at  liberty  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, draws  his  wife's  arm  within  his  and  leads  her  into 
the  next  room,  out  of  hearing  of  the  sharp  ears  of  the  two 
youngsters. 

"  What  does  Kenyon  say  ?"  the  wife  asked  as  soon  as 
the  door  was  closed. 


EPILOGVE.  »67 

**  Just  what  you  thought :  that  there  is  no  more  real  lib- 
erty in  Utah  than  there  was  ten  years  ago,  and  that  there 
is  not  the  shadow  of  a  chance  that  any  Mormon  will  be 
punished  for  such  a  small  matter  as  killing  a  few  people  in 
obedience  to  counsel.  He  says  that  while  he  was  in  Salt 
Lake  he  never  ventured  on  the  street  after  dark — and  you 
know  Kenyon  is  not  a  coward." 

"  And  Philip — is  he   still  determined  to  stay  ?" 

*'  Yes.  He  says  that  his  work  is  in  Utah,  and  he  will 
live  and  die  there." 

"  He  does  not  expect  that  the  Government  will  enforce 
the  laws,  and  make  Utah  as  safe  a  residence  as  Califor- 
nia ?" 

"  No,  none  of  them  seem  to  expect  that  ;  but  the  Gentiles 
are  coming  in  in  great  numbers  this  year,  and  if  the  mines 
of  the  Territory  turn  out  as  well  as  they  promise  to,  the 
immigration  is  likely  to  be  larger  each  succeeding  year. 
He  hopes,  and  so  do  others,  that  in  ten  years  the  Gentiles 
may  be  in  the  majority,  and  in  that  case  they  will  soon 
have  a  new  set  of  laws,  and  new  men  to  administer 
them." 

The  wife  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  I  am  afraid  it  will 
not  turn  out  as  they  hope,"  she  said.  "  We  used  to  hope 
for  the  same  thing  fifteen  years  ago,  but  there  is  no  change 
for  the  better  yet.  My  father's  bones  lie  unburied  in  the 
cafion  where  they  shot  him,  and  I  dare  not  think  of  my 
sister's  fate  ;  but  to  whom  can  I  go  to  demand  the  punish- 
ment of  the  men  who  murdered  my  father  and  carried  off 
my  sister  ?  I  tell  you,  Brigham  Young  will  rule  while  he 
lives,  and  die  at  last  in  his  bed,  and  be  eulogized  even  out- 
side of  the  Mormon  Church  as  one  of  the  greatest  men  of 
the  age.  This  is  my  prophecy,  and  time  will  prove  it  true." 

*'  Nevertheless,  I  honor  Philip  for  his  determination  to 
stay  and  fight  out  the  battle  with  fraud  and  oppression. 


268         THE  FATE   OF  MAD  A  ME  LA   TOUR. 

and  I  shall  always  be  a  coward  in  my  own  eyes  if  I  do  not 
go  to  his  help." 

"  Francis  !  You  don't  mean  that  you  would  take  us  to 
Utah  ?  You  know  it  was  not  the  fault  of  those  who  fol- 
lowed us  that  mother  and  I  escaped  with  our  lives." 

"  I  know.  But,  my  dear  little  wife,  you  have  some  one 
to  protect  you  now,  and  you  would  be  in  no  more  danger 
than  Jessie,  who  rebelled  openly  against  the  authority  of 
the  Prophet  years  ago.  There  is  a  change  for  the  better 
by  the  incoming  of  the  Gentiles,  and  even  if  the  past  is  not 
punished  the  present  is  less  dangerous." 

One  October  day,  three  months  after  the  above  conversa- 
tion, the  cars  landed  Francis  La  Tour  and  his  family  at  Salt 
Lake.  It  was  during  the  Fall  Conference,  and  the  city  was 
filled  with  Saints  from  the  outlying  settlements.  The  streets 
were  crowded  also  with  miners,  who  had  come  in  from  the 
surrounding  camps  to  purchase  their  winter  supplies,  and 
the  sleepy  Mormon  capital  which  Elsie  La  Tour  remem- 
bered seemed  transformed  into  a  busy,  bustling  Western 
town.  Their  brother  Philip's  home  was  on  a  quiet  street 
at  some  distance  from  the  main  thoroughfares,  and  to 
reach  it  they  had  to  pass  in  sight  of  the  Tabernacle.  The 
afternoon  services  were  over,  and  at  least  ten  thousand 
people  who  had  congregated  in  and  around  the  building 
were  slowly  dispersing, 

"  Look  at  those  faces  !"  Francis  whispered  to  his  wife. 
"  There  were  brigands  and  cut-throats  enough  among  the 
Mormons  when  I  left  them,  over  twenty  years  ago,  but 
they  must  have  received  large  accessions  from  those  classes 
since." 

In  truth,  it  would  have  been  a  difficult  matter  to  find  any- 
where among  the  same  number  of  people  a  greater  pro- 
portion of  men  whose  faces  expressed  an  ignorant  and 
brutal  ferocity  ;  but  there  was  a  special  cause  just  now  for 


EPILOGUE.  269 

the  scowls  and  black  looks  which  had  caught  La  Tour's 
attention.  The  United  States  Court,  then  in  session,  had 
undertaken  the  task  of  investigating  a  few  of  the  most  no- 
torious crimes  committed  by  the  orders  of  the  Church  au- 
thorities, and  a  grand  jury,  composed  of  men  not  bound  by 
an  oath  to  obey  the  Prophet  in  all  things,  had  been  impan- 
eled by  the  United  States  marshal  to  hear  such  evidence 
as  could  be  procured.  As  a  result  of  these  proceedings,  in- 
dictments for  murder  had  already  been  found  against 
many  men  in  high  places,  and  among  these  was  the  mayor 
of  Salt  Lake,  who  occupied  the  position  of  Second  Counsel- 
or to  the  Prophet. 

"  The  Gentiles  think  they  can  succeed  in  their  undertak- 
ing," Philip  said  to  his  brother  the  day  after  his  arrival, 
"  but  we  who  have  once  been  in  the  Church  know  better. 
The  power  of  the  Prophet  was  never  more  absolute  than  it 
is  to-day,  though  he  is  wise  enough  to  change  his  methods. 
He  knows  that  to  resist  the  law  openly  would  be  the  very 
worst  thing  for  him  just  now,  but  his  cunning  makes  him 
more  than  a  match  for  the  Federal  authorities,  and  all 
that  the  courts  are  doing  will  only  strengthen  the  Mor- 
mons in  the  end." 

"  I  cannot  understand  that,"  Francis  said. 

"  Wait  a  few  months  and  yonwill  understand,"  was  the 
answer.  "  This  people  have  money  and  influence  enough 
to  get  everything  which  has  been  done  here  reversed,  and 
in  that  way  establish  their  plea  that  they  are  persecuted  for 
conscience  sake." 

The  next  week  brought  still  more  exciting  news.  The 
Prophet  himself  had  been  indicted  for  complicity  in  a  num- 
ber of  murders,  and  there  were  rumors  on  the  street  that 
he  had  been  arrested  and  taken  to  Camp  Douglas. 

"  At  last !"  exclaimed  Francis,  "  tha,t  Mf^'Qtgh  is  to  be 
brought  face  to  face  with  Justice." 


270         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA    TOUR. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  Philip  said.  "  He  has  not 
been  taken  to  Camp  Douglas.  He  is  under  nominal  arrest 
in  his  own  house,  and  you  will  see  soon  enough  what  that 
means." 

Francis  did  see  ;  for  the  Prophet  continued  to  take  daily 
airings  in  his  private  carriage  to  visit  his  friends,  and  to 
attend  the  weekly  balls  with  which  the  Saints  enliven  the 
dullness  of  the  winter  season.  He  was  always  accompa- 
nied, it  is  true,  by  the  deputy  marshal  who  was  supposed 
to  have  him  in  charge,  but  that  officer  treated  him  with 
such  marked  deference  that  strangers  doubtless  supposed 
him  to  be  the  Prophet's  valet. 

The  winter  passed  slowly  away.  One  hundred  and 
twenty-nine  Mormons,  most  of  them  men  who  held  impor- 
tant Territorial  offices,  were  under  indictment  for  capital 
crimes  ;  but  none  of  them  languished  in  prison,  for  the 
sufficient  reason  that  all  the  prisons  in  the  Territory  were 
under  Mormon  control.  A  few  were  under  nominal  arrest ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  occupied  quarters  in  some  of  these 
Mormon  prisons,  in  which  they  received  hosts  of  sympa- 
thizing friends,  and  had  parties  given  in  their  honor  ;  but 
by  far  the  greater  number  were  out  on  bail,  pending  an  ap- 
peal which  had  been  taken  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States. 

During  the  winter  Francis  La  Tour  occupied  himself  in 
collecting  evidence  against  the  Prophet,  and  though  his 
brother  assured  him  that  his  efforts  were  useless,  he  would 
not  be  discouraged.  The  memory  of  his  mother's  wrongs 
was  always  present  with  him,  and  since  he  had  met  her 
enemy  face  to  face  he  felt  more  determined  than  ever  not 
to  rest  until  the  penalty  of  his  crimes  was  meted  out  to 
him. 

Spring  came,  and  with  it  the  anxiously  expected  decision 
pf  the  Supreme  Court,    Philip's  prophecy  proved  correct 


EPILOGUE.  271 

in  every  particular.  The  grand  jury  which  had  found  the 
indictments  against  the  Prophet  and  his  subordinates  was 
declared  illegal  because  impaneled  by  the  United  States 
marshal,  and  in  less  than  a  month  the  columns  of  the  East- 
em  press  teemed  with  strictures  upon  the  conduct  of  the 
Federal  officers  in  Utah  who  had  been  engaged  in  "  per- 
secuting" the  Saints. 

Meantime  the  Gentiles  and  those  recusant  Mormons  who 
had  aided  them  in  their  efforts  to  bring  notorious  criminals 
to  justice  felt  the  full  force  of  the  Prophet's  wrath.  It  is 
true  that  men  were  no  longer  shot  down  on  the  streets  in 
broad  day  ;  but  if  the  Danites  were  instructed  to  put  any  one 
out  of  the  way  by  poison,  or  in  any  other  quiet  manner, 
they  could  do  so  without  hindrance,  as,  no  matter  how 
suddenly  or  strangely  a  man  might  die,  no  inquiry  was 
made  as  to  the  cause  of  his  death.  Moreover,  now  that 
the  United  States  courts  were  powerless,  all  questions  re- 
lating to  the  security  of  life  or  property  were  referred  to 
the  local  courts,  presided  over  by  Mormon  high  priests, 
and  the  arbitrary  decrees  of  the  Prophet  were  clothed  with 
legal  forms  and  fulfilled  to  the  letter  by  his  sworn  adher- 
ents, who  held  all  the  public  offices  in  the  Territory. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  and  at  a  time  when 
Francis  La  Tour  was  beginning  to  question  seriously  the 
wisdom  of  the  step  he  had  taken  in  bringing  his  family  to 
Utah,  Elsie  discovered,  by  pure  accident,  the  whereabouts 
of  her  sister,  who  was  dragging  out  a  miserable  life  as  the 
neglected  and  abused  plural  wife  of  a  man  high  in  the 
priesthood.  This  sister,  of  whom  mention  has  been  made 
in  the  beginning  of  the  present  chapter,  had  been  forcibly 
detained  when  Elsie  and  her  mother  made  their  escape 
from  the  Territory,  and  her  fate  was  that  of  many  another 
unprotected  girl  who  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Mormon 
leaders. 


272         THE  FATE    OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

"Poor  Julia!"  Elsie  said  sorrowfully  to  her  husband, 
"  I  could  wish  that  I  had  found  her  grave  instead.  She 
dares  not  talk  with  me  about  what  she  endures,  but  her 
face  tells  enough,  even  if  I  had  not  seen  the  miserable  hut 
In  which  she  lives." 

Elsie  saw  little  of  her  unhappy  sister,  who  was  not  al- 
lowed to  visit  her  Gentile  relatives.  She  lived  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city,  more  than  two  miles  from  the  handsome 
house  which  Francis  La  Tour  had  bought. 

Elsie  went  there  a  few  times,  but  as  her  visits  seemed  to 
distress  the  poor  creature,  they  were  gradually  discon- 
tinued. 

"  Julia  seems  more  unwilling  than  ever  that  I  should  see 
her,"  she  said  to  her  husband  one  evening,  after  she  had 
driven  out  to  the  wretched  cabin  that  her  sister  called 
home. 

' '  I  suppose  that  is  because  the  contrast  between  your  lot 
and  hers  makes  her  more  unhappy,"  was  the  anwer. 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  that  is  the  reason.  She  looked 
frightened  when  I  came  in  this  afternoon.  I  dare  say  that 
brute  had  forbidden  her  to  receive  me,  and  I  am  almost 
certain  now  that  he  beats  her  when  she  disobeys  him. 
There  was  a  livid  mark  across  her  face  to-day.  She  said 
she  had  fallen  and  hurt  herself,  but  to  me  it  looked  exactly 
as  though  she  had  been  struck  in  the  face  with  a  whip." 

"If  I  were  sure  of  that,"  Francis  said,  "  I  should  not 
deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  breaking  my  cane  over  the  fel- 
low's head  when  I  meet  him  on  the  street." 

"Oh,  Francis!"  His  wife  looked  alarmed.  "  In  this 
place  it  will  not  do  to  interfere,  no  matter  how  badly  a  man 
may  treat  his  family.  There  is  a  better  way,  if  Julia  would 
only  consent  to  it.  She  has  no  children,  as  you  know — 
nothing  to  keep  her  here — and  I  am  almost  certain  I  could 
get  her  safely  out  of  the  Territory  ;  but  she  will  not  go." 


EPILOGUE.  273 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation  Elsie  heard,  through 
a  neighbor,  that  her  sister  was  sick.  No  word  had  been 
sent  to  her,  and  she  knew  that  in  all  probability  her  pres- 
ence was  not  desired,  but  she  started  at  once  to  go  to  her. 
"When  she  reached  the  cabin  a  couple  of  women  were 
standing  in  the  doorway,  and  to  her  hurried  inquiries  one 
of  them  answered  briefly, 

"  She  is  dead." 

Dead  !  Elsie  clutched  the  broken  palings  to  keep  herself 
from  falling.  In  that  moment  the  years  vanished  away, 
and  she  saw,  instead  of  the  miserable  wreck  of  womanhood 
that  met  her  eyes  when  she  last  visited  the  cabin,  the  baby 
sister  with  sunny  curls,  and  eyes  like  April  violets,  whose 
tiny  hands  she  held  while  she  took  her  first  tottering  steps. 
And  now  the  tired  feet  had  ended  their  pilgrimage  of  sorrow 
at  the  brink  of  the  grave,  when  no  one  who  loved  her  was 
near  to  stay  the  faltering  steps.  How  she  must  have  longed 
for  human  love  in  the  hour  of  mortal  weakness  !  How  she 
must  have  looked,  through  the  mists  of  death  for  the  sister 
who  did  not  come  ! 

"  Why  was  I  not  sent  for  ?"  she  asked  of  the  two  women, 
whose  stolid  faces  never  changed.     "  I  am  her  sister." 

"  Her  husband  was  with  her,"  was  the  only  answer. 

"  He  is  not  here  now  ?" 

"No." 

"  Then  let  me  come  in  ;"  for  both  women  still  stood  in 
the  doorway,  barring  entrance. 

"I'm  sorry  ma'am,"  one  of  them  answered;  "but 
Brother  Benson  left  strict  orders  not  to  let  you  in  if  you 
should  come." 

Elsie  was  alone.  Her  husband  had  not  known  of  her 
coming,  and  with  no  help  near  she  was  forced  to  submit  to 
this  harsh  edict  and  turn  away  without  looking  upon  the 
face  of  the  dead. 


274         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

Weeks  afterward,  Philip  La  Tour  told  his  brother  the 
story  of  the  poor  creature's  tragic  fate  as  he  had  learned  it 
from  others.  "  I  would  not  have  Elsie  know  the  truth  for 
the  world,"  he  said  ;  '*  but  there  is  not  the  least  doubt  that 
her  sister  died  by  poison.  She  was  accused  of  breaking 
her  covenants,  and  now,  as  in  the  past,  an  unsupported 
accusation  is  all  that  is  needed  in  the  case  of  one  whose 
death  is  desired.  The  poor  girl  was  weary  of  life,  and  con- 
sented, I  am  told,  to  take  the  poison. 

"  It  is  strange  that  the  story  should  have  been  allowed  to 
get  out,"  Francis  observed. 

"  Such  reports  circulate  in  whispers,  and  at  last  reach 
ears  for  which  they  were  not  intended,"  Philip  answered  ; 
"  but  a  few  years  ago  it  would  not  have  been  thought 
necessary  to  keep  a  case  of  blood-atonement  secret." 

"  I  might  have  asked  last  year  if  something  could  not  be 
done  about  it,"  Francis  said  ;  "  but  I  have  learned  a  great 
deal  since  then." 

"You  will  learn  more  before  another  year,"  replied 
Philip.  "  You  can  see  already  that  while  our  local  laws  are 
made  and  administered  by  the  priesthood,  Brigham  Young 
is  the  actual  ruler  of  the  Territor)',  and  that  the  presence 
of  the  Gentiles  and  of  the  Federal  officers  has  no  effect  ex- 
cept to  cause  the  Danites  to  do  secretly  what  they  used  to 

do  openly." 

******* 

Two  more  years  passed,  bringing  no  material  changes  to 
the  La  Tours.  Francis,  who  had  invested  a  large  sum  in 
the  mines,  found  it  necessary  to  stay  in  the  Territory  and 
give  personal  attention  to  the  development  of  his  property. 
Philip  was  as  determined  as  ever  to  see  the  end  of  the  con- 
flict between  theocratic  despotism  and  republican  ideas, 
and  as  Congress  had  lattly  passed  a  law  which  made  it  pos- 
sible for  the  Federal  judges  to  resume  their  duties,  he  be- 


EPILOGUE.  275 

gan  to  hope,  not  that  past  crimes  would  be  punished,  but 
that  present  abuses  might  be  checked  in  a  measure.  The 
Prophet  had  determined  to  break  up  Philip's  business,  but 
for  once  he  failed  in  his  undertaking.  The  money  brought 
into  the  Territory  by  the  Gentiles,  as  well  as  much  that 
was  taken  out  of  the  mines,  helped  to  enrich  the  Saints 
(who  sold  freely  to  the  outsiders,  though  they  bought  noth- 
ing of  them),  but  at  the  same  time  it  saved  from  ruin  those 
ex-Mormon  merchants  who  had  been  "  delivered  over  to 
the  buffetings  of  Satan."  The  miners  were  Philip's  best 
customers,  and  he  was  a  far  richer  man  in  1875  than  he 
was  ten  years  earlier,  when  the  Prophet  declared  that  he 
should  be  blessed  in  basket  and  store. 

His  wife,  too,  had  grown  young  again  in  the  five  years 
that  had  elapsed  since  the  shadow  was  lifted  from  their 
hearthstone,  and  the  bonny  boy  who  was  his  mother's  only 
comfort  in  the  days  to  which  she  could  not  look  back  with- 
out a  shudder,  now  led  about  a  little  blue-eyed  sister,  while 
a  rosy  baby  claimed  the  cradle  in  the  nursery. 

Thus  far  the  Prophet's  curse  had  borne  no  fruit  in  their 
lives  ;  and  though  at  first  Jessie  always  watched  anxiously 
for  her  husband's  return  when  business  detained  him  after 
dark,  her  fears  gradually  died  away,  as  year  after  year 
passed  without  any  token  that  the  Danites  were  shadow- 
ing him.  Still  it  was  not  usual  for  Philip  to  be  absent  un- 
til nine  o'clock  without  telling  his  wife  where  he  might  be 
found,  and  when,  one  evening  in  the  summer  of  '76,  ten 
o'clock  came  without  bringing  the  sound  of  the  well-known 
footstep  for  which  the  wife  was  listening,  the  old  dread  be- 
gan to  oppress  her,  and  though  she  told  herself  over  and 
over  again  that  she  was  foolish  and  nervous,  when  the 
clock  struck  eleven  she  could  bear  her  anxieties  no  longer. 
An  errand-boy  employed  in  the  store  slept  at  the  house, 
and  waking  him  she  sent  him  for  Francis,     It  was  nearly 


ayfi        THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

twelve  when  his  brother  came,  and  still  Philip  had  not  re- 
turned. 

"I  will  go  out  at  once  and  search  for  him,"  Francis 
said. 

"Where  could  you  search?"  the  wife  asked,  as  the 
hopelessness  of  such  an  attempt  presented  itself  to  her 
mind.  "  If  harm  has  come  to  him,  the  police  have  acted 
the  same  part  that  they  did  in  the  Robinson  murder.  You 
could  get  no  help  from  themj  but  I  will  not  believe  yet  that 
anything  has  happened.  I  spent  a  terrible  night  once 
years  ago,  when  he  did  not  come  home  until  daylight.  He 
was  called  away  to  the  house  of  a  sick  friend,  and  the  boy 
that  he  sent  to  tell  me  never  delivered  the  message.  Most 
probably  something  of  the  same  sort  has  occurred  now." 

Yet  while  she  tried  to  speak  hopefully  her  face  was  so 
white  that  Francis  rose  once  more  to  go  out  into  the 
street,  saying,  "  I  will  find  him,  wherever  he  is."  But 
before  he  finished  speaking  they  heard  the  gate  open,  and 
in  a  moment  more  Philip  entered. 

"  I  have  caused  a  great  deal  of  anxiety,  I  fear,"  he 
said,  as  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  him  ;  "  but  I  could 
not  help  it,  and  it  is  just  as  well  that  Francis  is  here,  for 
he  is  as  much  interested  as  I  in  what  I  have  to  tell. 

"  It  was  late  when  I  left  the  office,  but  I  thought  I 
would  stop  in  a  few  minutes  to  see  Blanche.  I  have  fan- 
cied for  weeks  that  she  looked  badly,  but  as,  thus  far,  she 
has  always  obeyed  counsel,  and  refused  to  confide  in  any 
of  us,  I  could  not  find  out  whether  she  was  ill  or  in  trou- 
ble. To-night  I  knocked  two  or  three  times,  and  not  get- 
ting any  answer  I  took  the  liberty  to  open  the  door  and 
go  directly  to  the  sitting-room,  where  I  thought  I  should 
be  sure  to  find  her.  The  hall  lamp  was  burning,  but 
there  was  no  light  in  any  other  part  of  the  house.  I 
struck  a  light  myself,  and  there  on  the  floor  of  her  sitting- 


EPILOGUE.  277 

room  the  poor  child  lay  insensible.  At  first  I  thought 
her  dead.  Poor  little  Blanche  !  It  might  have  been  bet- 
ter tor  her  if  she  had  been." 

"  Why,  Philip  !    What  can  you  mean  ?"   his  wife  asked 
with  a  shocked  face. 

' '  Wait  and  you  will  hear.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
house  with  her,  as  I  found  after  calling  repeatedly  for  her 
husband  and  the  servant.  I  tried  first  to  restore  her  by 
dashing  water  in  her  face,  but  failing  in  this  I  hunted  up 
some  more  powerful  remedies,  and  in  a  little  while  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  her  back  to  consciousness.  Her  first 
attempt  to  talk  to  me,  however,  ended  in  a  fit  of  hysterical 
sobbing,  and  it  was  an  hour  more  before  she  was  com- 
posed enough  to  answer  my  questions.  Jessie  knows  how 
positive  Blanche  has  always  been  in  her  belief  that  her 
husband  would  never  take  another  wife,  and  I  own  I 
shared  this  belief  for  a  long  time  ;  but  two  years  ago, 
when  the  Prophet  determined  to  force  the  whole  people 
into  polygamy,  in  order  to  outlaw  those  who  had  not  com- 
mitted other  crimes,  I  began  to  tremble  for  my  little  sis- 
ter's happiness,  and  of  late  I  could  not  help  seeing  that  a 
great  change  had  come  over  her  and  her  husband.  It 
seems  Blanche  has  known  that  a  strong  pressure  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  her  husband  months  ago,  to  wring  a 
promise  from  him  to  take  another  wife.  The  Prophet 
had  managed  to  tie  up  all  Richard's  money  in  his  co- 
operative schemes,  and  of  course  he  would  never  see  a 
dollar  of  that  again  if  he  disobeyed  counsel ;  but  there  was 
another  cause — one  that  Blanche  never  learned  anything  , 
about  until  to-night — which  operated  more  powerfully 
than  the  fear  of  losing  his  money  to  bring  him  to  the 
Prophet's  terms. 

"  Richard  knew  all  the  facts  about  Van  Wirt,  Clive, 
and  some  others  who  died  after  being  so  roughly  handled 


278         THE  FATE   OP  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

by  the  police  at  the  City  Hall,  and  though  he  would  have 
prevented  those  murders  if  he  had  been  a  free  agent,  he 
feels  now  that  he  is  involved  in  the  crimes  of  the  city  au- 
thorities, and  no  doubt  the  law  would  take  the  same  view 
of  his  case.  Blanche  did  not  mean  to  tell  me  all  this,  but 
her  wretchedness  had  broken  down  her  caution  as  well  as 
her  pride,  and  before  she  knew  it  she  was  telling  me  her 
troubles  as  freely  as  she  used  to  when  she  was  a  little 
girl,  and  '  Brother  Philip'  took  the  place  of  father  and 
mother  both." 

"  I  can  guess  the  remainder  of  the  story,"  Francis  said. 

Jessie  was  silent.  Her  head  rested  on  her  hand,  and  her 
face  showed  that  the  old  wounds  which  the  years  had 
seemed  to  heal  were  reopened. 

"  You  may  not  be  able  to  guess  all,"  Philip  said  in  an- 
swer to  his  brother's  remark.  "  It  was  easy  enough  to 
foresee,  months  ago,  that  Richard  would  eventually  be 
forced  into  polygamy  ;  but  it  appears  the  Prophet  made 
up  his  mind  that  Blanche  deserved  a  special  punishment 
for  her  obstinate  refusal  to  consent  to  the  marriage,  and 
so  it  has  been  decreed  that  Richard  shall  take  as  his  wife 
a  servant  girl  that  Blanche  discharged  last  winter — a 
bold,  forward  piece,  who  spent  half  her  time  curling  her 
hair  and  dressing  up  to  attract  Richard's  notice — that  is 
what  poor  Blanche  told  me  to-night,  forgetting  that  she 
gave  a  very  different  reason  at  the  time  for  dismissing  the 
girl." 

"  And  has  Blanche  so  little  spirit  that  she  will  submit  to 
such  an  arrangement  ?"   Francis  asked. 

"  How  can  she  help  herself  .'*"  Jessie  said,  speaking  for 
the  first  time.  "  You  forget  the  law  under  which  we  are 
living — the  law  which  says,  '  If  a  woman  refuse  to  give 
other  wives  to  her  husband,  he  shall  take  them  without 
her  consent,  and  she  shall  be  destroyed  for  her  disobedi- 


EPILOGUE.  279 

ence.*  Blanche  has  refused  her  consent,  but  the  mar- 
riage will  take  place  all  the  same,  and  her  punishment 
will  come  afterward." 

"  I  will  go  to  the  Federal  authorities  in  the  morning," 
Francis  said,  rising  hastily.  "  I  will  lodge  information 
against  Richard,  and  have  this  thing  stopped." 

"  How  will  you  stop  it  ?"  It  was  Philip  who  asked  the 
question  this  time.  "  When  the  courts  are  powerless  to 
punish  a  plural  marriage  after  it  has  taken  place,  how  can 
you  expect  them  to  prevent  such  marriages  ?  We  know 
of  more  than  one  wife  who  has  gone  to  the  United  States 
Court  in  this  city  to  beg  that  her  husband's  second  mar- 
riage might  be  prevented,  but  the  answer  has  always 
been,  '  We  can  do  nothing  for  you.'  Neither  you  nor  I  nor 
the  Federal  authorities  can  prevent  Richard  from  marry- 
ing that  girl  to-morrow  ;  but  I  have  thought  it  possible  that 
we  may  save  Blanche  from  the  punishment  that,  as  Jessie 
says,  is  to  come  afterward.  The  Prophet  has  decreed  that, 
to  make  this  punishment  complete,  the  new  wife  is  to  be 
brought  directly  home  and  made  the  mistress  of  the  house. 
If  Blanche  will  only  institute  a  suit  for  divorce  as  soon  as 
the  girl  is  brought  there,  I  think  the  judge  will  be  just 
enough  to  decide  that  she  shall  keep  the  house  in  which 
she  lives." 

"  Maybe  he  will  not  grant  the  divorce.  You  say  no  one 
is  punished  for  polygamy." 

"  True,  because  in  the  first  place  it  is  impossible  to  get 
proof,  in  court,  of  a  polygamous  marriage,  which  takes 
place  in  the  Endowment  House,  and  is  witnessed  only  by 
those  who  are  bound  by  an  oath  to  divulge  nothing ;  and 
in  the  second  place  it  is  probable  that  when  the  criminal 
is  tried  there  will  be  men  on  the  jury  who  are  bound  by  a 
similar  oath  to  convict  nobody  ;  but  if  Blanche  asks  for  a 
divorce  it  will  be  easy  enough  to  prove  that  she  is  entitled 


28o         THE  FATE   OF  MADAME  LA   TOUR. 

to  that,  and  the  Federal  judge,  and  not  a  Mormon  jury,  will 
decide  the  case." 

"  All  I  have  to  say,  then,  is,  that  if  Blanche  does  not 
avail  herself  of  the  only  remedy  the  law  offers  her,  she 
does  not  deserve  our  pity." 

These  were  the  elder  brother's  last  words  as  he  took  his 
leave  of  the  others  for  the  night.  Two  days  afterward 
Philip  learned  that  the  second  marriage  had  taken  place, 
but  the  bride  had  not  been  brought  home.  Blanche, 
who  in  this  emergency  developed  a  spirit  which  had  been 
latent  during  the  happier  years  of  her  life,  had  barricaded 
every  door  and  window,  and  announced  her  determination 
to  hold  possession  of  the  place  at  all  hazards. 

"  If  a  few  more  of  the  women  in  this  Territory  would 
take  such  a  course,  polygamy  would  be  broken  up  in  less 
than  three  years,"  Francis  said. 

"  Wait  a  little  and  see  how  the  thing  ends,"  his  brother 
advised.  "  You  may  not  be  so  sure,  six  months  from 
now,  that  her  course  is  the  best  one." 

For  two  weeks  Blanche  was  the  sole  occupant  of  the 
house  she  had  fortified.  At  the  end  of  that  time  she  fell 
sick,  and  the  doors  were  opened  to  admit  Jessie,  who 
nursed  her  tenderly,  and  would  gladly  have  offered  such 
sympathy  as  Blanche  manifested  in  her  own  hour  of  mor- 
tal pain,  in  that  dark  past  which  she  could  never  forget. 
But  the  nature  once  so  sweet  and  tender  was  embittered 
and  hardened  by  misery  and  despair,  and  Blanche  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  her  sister's  pitying  words.  She  did  not  pray  for 
death,  as  Jessie  had  done,  but  she  seemed  to  wish  to  live  only 
that  she  might  see  such  punishment  as  they  deserved  visited 
upon  her  husband  and  the  girl  who  had  supplanted  her. 

"The  law  cannot  reach  them  yet,"  she  said  to  Jessie, 
"  but  I  shall  live  to  see  the  day  when  it  will.  I  shall  live 
to  see  them  both  in  prison,  branded  as  felons." 


EPILOGUE.  281 

"  You  do  not  wish  to  see  your  husband  there  ?"  Jessie 
ventured  to  say. 

"  I  have  no  husband."  The  face  of  the  wronged  wife 
grew  livid,  and  her  hands  worked  convulsively.  "  I  can- 
not go  on  loving  as — as  some  women  do.  My  love  had 
received  its  death-blow  the  night  that  Philip  found 
me." 

Blanche  was  soon  to  learn  that  the  law  which  was  pow- 
erless to  punish  a  man  for  breaking  his  marriage  vows 
was  strong  enough  when  used  as  an  instrument  of  ven- 
geance against  a  woman  who  refused  to  give  other  wives 
to  her  husband.  In  three  weeks  from  the  day  of  Richard 
Barney's  second  marriage,  the  house  which  his  wife  had 
called  her  home  for  nearly  twenty  years  was  sold,  and 
Blanche  received  formal  notice  from  the  purchaser  to  va- 
cate the  premises.* 

"  I  will  never  leave  the  house  alive,"  she  declared  to 
Philip. 

"  You  cannot  hold  possession  after  the  place  is  sold," 
Philip  answered.  "  The  man  who  has  bought  it  and  paid 
for  it  has  a  right  to  his  property." 

"  I  did  not  expect _yo« to  turn  against  me,"  Blanche  said 
bitterly. 

"  My  poor  girl  !  You  know  your  brothers  would  still  be 
your  friends  if  all  the  world  should  turn  against  you.  I 
am  only  telling  you  the  facts.  The  court  on  which  you 
rely  for  help  will  send  officers  to  eject  you  from  the  prem- 
ises if  you  do  not  give  up  possession." 

*  Under  the  laws  of  Utah  a  wife  has  no  right  of  dower ;  consequent- 
ly, when  she  displeases  her  husband  he  can  sell  the  house  in  which 
she  lives,  or  deed  it  to  a  plural  spouse,  and  turn  her  into  the  street. 
The  occurrence  related  above  came  under  the  writer's  personal  obser- 
vation in  1876. 


2^2        THE  FATE  OF  MaDAME  LA  TOUR. 

But  Blanche  would  not  be  convinced,  and  in  spite  of  her 
brother's  efforts  to  persuade  her  to  leave,  remained  in  the 
house  until  the  purchaser  procured  a  writ  of  ejectment,  and 
she  was  removed  by  force. 

In  other  days  the  Prophet  would  have  called  upon  the 
Danites  to  enforce  the  law  which  declares  that  a  woman 
who  refuses  to  give  other  wives  to  her  husband  shall  be 
destroyed,  but  now  he  found  it  wiser  to  make  the  officers 
of  the  United  States  Government  the  instruments  of  his 
will.  The  writ  which  turned  the  disobedient  wife  into 
the  street  was  issued  by  a  Federal  judge,  and  served  by  a 
United  States  marshal.  When,  a  few  weeks  later,  Blanche 
applied  for  a  divorce,  the  same  judge  granted  it,  and  de- 
creed her  the  munificent  sum  of  six  dollars  per  month  as 
alimony,  and  in  less  than  a  year  the  husband  was  released 
altogether  from  the  payment  of  alimony  to  the  wife  who 
had  dared  to  rebel  against  polygamy.  No  blame,  how- 
ever, could  be  made  to  attach  to  the  judge  in  this  matter, 
for  the  husband,  anticipating  the  suit  for  divorce,  had  put 
all  his  property  out  of  his  hands,  and  when  the  case  came 
to  trial  any  number  of  Mormon  witnesses  were  found 
ready  to  testify  that  he  received  no  salary  for  his  services 
in  the  Co-operative  Mercantile  Institution,  but  was  work- 
ing out  a  debt. 

In  his  heart  the  Prophet  doubtless  felt  that  he  had  little 
more  need  of  the  Danites,  and  it  was  a  noticeable  fact 
that  about  this  time  the  older  and  more  trusted  ones — 
those  who  knew  most  of  the  dark  deeds  of  former  years — 
began  to  drop  off.  They  were  men  advanced  in  years, 
whose  death  might  naturally  have  been  expected,  and  as 
they  adhered  to  the  teachings  of  the  Church  and  called  no 
physician  in  time  of  sickness,  but  depended  instead  on  the 
ministrations  of  the  elders  who  possessed  the  gift  of  heal- 


EPILOGUE.  2^3 

ing,  no  one  competent  to  decide  whether  or  not  death  was 
due  to  nartural  causes  was  present  in  their  last  hours.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  ruler  of  the  people  had  made  a  com- 
pact with  Death  to  keep  his  secrets  for  him. 

But  that  ghostly  ally,  whom  he  had  sought  to  propitiate 
by  the  sacrifice  of  his  trusted  adherents,  at  last  laid  his 
hand  on  the  Prophet  himself. 

"  The  tyrant  is  dead  !  Thank  God  !"  In  these  words 
Francis  La  Tour  announced  the  event  to  his  wife. 

"  He  died  peacefully  in  his  bed,  as  I  prophesied  years 
ago  ;  is  it  not  so  .-*"  she  asked. 

"  He  died  in  his  bed,  that  is  true,  but  it  could  not  have 
been  a  peaceful  death." 

"And  he  will  be  eulogized,  as  I  said.  Men  whose 
words  have  weight  with  the  nation  will  praise  him  as  the 
founder  of  a  commonwealth,  as  one  who  has  turned  the 
wilderness  into  a  garden,  and  peopled  this  Territory  with 
hardy  and  industrious  immigrants.  I  can  see  in  my  mind 
the  very  sentences  that  will  be  inscribed  in  his  praise, 
while  the  system  that  he  built  up  is  proving  a  heavier 
curse  than  ever  to  the  people." 

Elsie  La  Tour  did  not  lay  claim  to  the  gift  of  prophecy, 
but  her  words  proved  true.  And  to-day,  though  the 
Prophet  is  dead,  Mormonism  lives,  and  is  strengthening 
itself  and  enlarging  its  boundaries  year  by  year. 


NOTES   OF   REFERENCE. 


NOTE  A   (PAGE    1 8). 

The  following  extract  is  made,  by  permission,  from 
the  Salt  Lake  Tribune  of  October  21st,  1879.  '^^^  writer, 
J.  R.  McBride,  Esq.,  a  member  of  the  Salt  Lake  bar,  is 
well  known  to  our  citizens  as  one  of  the  oldest  pioneers  of 
the  coast,  and  his  statements  can  be  relied  upon  as  correct 
in  ever)'  particular : 

"  In  the  face  of  undeniable  facts  to  the  contrary,  the 
priesthood  of  the  Saints  prate  of  having  made  a  garden  in 
the  wilderness,  built  a  commonwealth  in  the  Great  Ameri- 
can Desert,  and  made  it  blossom  as  the  rose  ;  of  having 
subdued  the  wilds  of  the  savage  to  the  use  of  man,  built 
towns  and  cities,  tabernacles  and  school-houses,  railroads 
and  telegraphs,  and  so  on  ad  nauseam. 

"Whenever  these  untruthful  boasts  are  exposed,  the 
priesthood  fall  back  on  the  statement  of  some  Eastern 
editor  who  has  been  duped  by  them  into  crediting  the 
Mormons  with  Utah's  progress,  and  again  quote  the  old 
lie  started  by  themselves  to  confute  the  well-known  facts. 

"  There  are  many  Mormons  who  actually  believe  that 
this  country  was  first  discovered  by  the  Mormon  people. 
Brigham  once,  on  the  witness-stand,  in  a  noted  cause 
pending  in  the  courts,  denied  that  the  owners  of  lots  in 
Salt  Lake  derived  title  from  the  United  States,  and  boldly 
asserted  that  he  claimed  the  Emporium  Corner  '  by  right 
of  discovery. ' 

"  To  the  facts.     The  valley  of  Great  Salt  Lake  was  as 


286  APPENDIX. 

well  known  to  travelers  in  the  Far  West — years  before  the 
Mormon  chief  squatted  here  to  pass  the  winter  of  1847,  be- 
fore resuming  the  journey  to  California — as  the  valley  of 
the  Sacramento,  or  that  of  the  Willamette.  It  was  no 
'desert,'  but  a  beautiful,  grass-covered  meadow,  waiting 
to  be  appropriated.  Its  isolation  was  its  protection,  not 
its  '  sage-brush  soil '  or  its  '  untamed  savages.'  The  labor 
of  subduing  it  then  was  nothing  comparatively. 

"  The  writer  was  here  before  the  Mormon  settlement 
was  made,  and  knows  that  the  pretense  of  reclaiming 
'  alkali  soil '  and  subduing  the  Indians  is  utterly  ground- 
less. From  Soda  Springs  to  the  head-waters  of  Salt  Lake 
Valley  to  the  south,  there  were  not  a  hundred  resident 
Indians.  The  Utes  lived  to  the  south  and  the  Bannocks 
to  the  north,  and  the  settlers  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  enter 
into  and  possess  the  land,  and  work  it  to  secure  a  fruitful 
result.  One  might  as  well  talk  of  subduing  or  reclaiming 
the  prairie  soil  of  Illinois  or  Iowa  as  of  '  subduing  '  or 
'  reclaiming  '  the  lands  of  Utah. 

"  There  were  stretches  of  miles  upon  miles  of  meadow 
lands,  with  grass  mid-sides  to  a  horse,  where  even  irriga- 
tion was  not  required,  when  the  Saints  came  into  the  val- 
ley.    All  that  was  needed  was  ordinary  industry. 

"  I  assert  that  the  lands  were,  in  the  early  settlement  of 
Utah,  more  easily  brought  to  bear  fruitful  returns  than  the 
ordinary  wild  lands  of  any  of  the  Western  States.  All  this 
talk  and  sentiment  about  the  hardships  of  pioneering  in 
Utah  are  pure  fustian. 

"  Those  who  crossed  the  plains  when  the  writer  did,  an- 
terior to  the  occupation  of  Utah,  know  that  the  real  diffi- 
culties and  dangers  of  that  long  journey  were  after  we  had 
passed  Utah  ;  the  deserts  of  Nevada,  the  Snake  Plains, 
the  alkali  water,  the  alert  and  dangerous  Indians  were  all 
to  the  west.     .    .    .    They  '  made  the  roads '  forsooth  ! 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  287 

Not  less  than  15,000  people  and  3000  wagons  had  passed 
through  Utah  to  the  West  before  a  Mormon  ever  set  foot 
in  Salt  Lake  Valley. 

"  The  road  from  Fort  Bridger  to  this  valley  in  1847  was 
as  plain  as  the  road  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  Sandy  is  to- 
day. This  I  know,  for  I  had  traveled  it  prior  to  that  time. 
General  John  Bidwell,  now  of  Chico,  California,  and 
Captain  Bartlett,  of  Jackson  County,  Missouri,  went  to 
California  with  an  ox-train  in  1841.  Lansford  W.  Hastings 
and  A.  L.  Lovejoy,  both  yet  living,  led  a  large  party  of 
wagon  emigrants  through  to  the  Pacific  Coast  in  1842.  In 
1843  the  regular  annual  overland  emigration  to  Oregon 
and  California  began,  and  between  that  date  and  the  time 
of  the  Mormon  arrival  in  the  valley  in  1847,  thousands  had 
passed  through  Utah  to  the  West ;  while  the  Saints  are 
now  boasting  that  '  these  valleys  of  the  mountains  '  were 
discovered  by  the  Lord  to  the  Prophet  Brigham,  who  then 
by  inspiration  opened  a  '  road  to  Utah,'  though  that  road 
had  been  regularly  traveled  for  years     .     .     . 

"  The  Saints  neither  discovered  the  country,  nor  built  the 
roads,  nor  subdued  the  Indians  :  there  was  no  such  work 
to  be  done.  The  fact  was,  they  entered  into  a  beautiful,  un- 
inhabited, inviting,  and  fertile  valley.  They  were  poor 
and  isolated,  and  endured  the  ordinary  hardships  of  their 
poverty  and  isolation.  In  that  respect  their  condition  and 
surroundings  were  far  better  than  those  of  the  early  pio- 
neers of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  And  when  we  consider 
the  advantages  they  have  enjoyed,  and  their  want  of  enter- 
prise and  energy,  until  the  stream  of  progress  from  Gentile 
sources  has  forced  them  into  a  sort  of  unenviable  notoriety 
— unenviable  because  of  their  opposition  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Territory — the  reactionary  tendency  and  un- 
American  character  of  their  institutions  becomes  mzini- 
fest."    ,    .     , 


288  APPENDIX. 

NOTE  B  (PAGE  38). 

I  have  heard  men  of  intelligence,  who  in  the  early  days 
of  this  Territory  were  leading  Mormons,  but  who  have 
since  renounced  that  faith,  attempt  to  explain  Brigham 
Young's  power  over  the  people  in  the  same  way  that  the 
old  Nauvoo  Mormons  accounted  for  Joseph  Smith's  influ- 
ence— viz.,  by  attributing  extraordinary  magnetic  or  mes- 
meric gifts  to  him. 

My  own  observation  inclines  me  to  a  different  belief. 
Brigham  Young  was  a  man  utterly  without  heart  or  con- 
science, and  being  possessed  of  an  iron  will  and  gifted 
with  an  extraordinary  degree  of  perseverance,  it  is  not 
strange  that  he  was  able  to  make  such  use  as  he  did  of  the 
engine  of  superstition  which  he  found  ready  to  his  hand,  or 
that  he  succeeded  in  bringing  the  ignorant  and  unthinking 
among  his  followers  to  regard  him  as  God's  vicegerent. 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  masses  who  have  remained 
faithful  to  the  Mormon  Prophet  are,  for  the  most  part, 
ignorant  almost  beyond  belief,  while  the  ranks  of  the  apos- 
tates from  Mormonism  are  being  continually  recruited 
from  the  more  intelligent  and  better  educated  classes.  In- 
deed, it  is  safe  to  say  that  at  the  present  time  the  only  in- 
telligent and  educated  men  who  are  to  be  found  within  the 
pale  of  the  Mormon  Church  are  those  who  are  kept  there 
by  pecuniary  considerations,  or  who  are  bound  to  their 
leaders  by  fellowship  in  crime. 

NOTE   C   (PAGE  39). 

I  have  in  my  possession  the  names  of  a  number  of  married 
women,  some  of  whom  were  "  sealed"  to  the  Prophet  Jo- 
seph in  Nauvoo,  and  were,  at  his  death,  "  sealed  for  time" 
\o  Brigham  Young,  while  others  were  taken  from  their  hus- 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  289 

bands  by  Brigham  after  Joseph's  death.  A  regard  for  the 
feelings  of  innocent  relatives,  who  are  still  living,  alone  in- 
duces me  to  withhold  these  names. 

I  will  give  but  one  instance  out  of  many  that  have  come 
to  my  knowledge,  which  may  serve  in  some  degree  to  ex- 
plain the  bitter  feelings  with  which  the  Mormons  in  Illinois 
were  regarded  by  their  Gentile  neighbors. 

A  married  woman,  whom  I  will  call  Mrs.  L ,  young, 

beautiful,  and  of  hitherto  unblemished  reputation,  fell  a 
victim  to  the  arts  of  the  Prophet  Joseph,  and  was  induced 
to  be  sealed  to  him  as  his  plural  wife.  Her  husband  being 
a  Gentile,  it  was  important  to  keep  the  matter  from  his 

knowledge,  and  within  a  few  months  after  Mrs.  L 's 

intimacy  with  the  Prophet  began,  the  husband  died,  as  it 
happened  many  men  died  in  Nauvoo  whose  presence  was 
not  desired  by  the  Saints.     When  the  Mormons  fled  from 

Nauvoo,  Mrs.  L found  a  home  in  Iowa.     She  had  one 

child — a  daughter,  the  offspring  of  her  "  spiritual"  mar- 
riage. She  had  a  large  amount  of  property,  which  her  de- 
ceased husband  had  left  her,  and  being  besides,  still  young 
and  fair,  her  hand  was  sought  by  one  who  was  not  of  her 
faith,  and  who  knew  nothing  of  the  dark  page  in  her  his- 
tory. 

After  a  few  months  she  married  Mr.  C ,  and  was  in- 
duced by  him  to  promise  to  give  over  following  the  fortunes 
of  the  Saints.     They  lived  happily  together  for  a  few  years, 

and  two  children  were  born  to  them.     Then  Mrs.  C 's 

brother  (who  was  a  Mormon  elder  with  seven  wives) 
paid  them  a  visit,  and  tried  to  induce  them  to  emigrate  to 
Utah.  Failing  in  this,  he  talked  with  his  sister  alone,  and 
endeavored  to  exact  a  promise  from  her  to  leave  her  hus- 
band and  gather  with  the  Saints  at  Zion. 

In  this  attempt  he  was  also  unsuccessful,  and  exasperated 
by  what  he  called  her  obstinacy,  he  told  her  she  would 


290  APPENDIX. 

soon  ba  glad  to  claim  his  protection  and  a  home  among 
his  people.  After  uttering  this  prophecy,  he  went  directly 
to  her  husband,  and  told  him  the  whole  shameful  stor)'  of 
her  past  life,  asserting  that  the  little  daughter  of  whom  she 
was  so  fond  was  the  child  of  the  Prophet. 
The   result   was   exactly   what  he  had  intended.      Mr. 

C confronted  his  wife  with  the  charge  made  by  her 

brother.  She  did  not  deny  it,  and  a  speedy  divorce  fol- 
lowed. The  discarded  wife  fled  to  Utah,  glad  to  hide  her 
misery  and  shame  among  a  people  who  called  crime 
"  virtue."  She  is  living  here  to-day,  a  heart-broken,  deso- 
late woman,  devoid  even  of  the  comfort  of  being  able  to 
believe  in  the  teachings  that  caused  her  downfall. 

NOTE  D  (PAGE  62). 

The  family  which  figures  here  under  the  name  of  La 
Tour  I  have  known  intimately  for  nine  years,  and  from  the 
members  of  it  who  never  believed  in  Mormonism  I  have 
obtained  the  facts  of  their  history.  I  have,  of  course,  made 
changes  in  their  story,  and  have  blended  with  it  some  in- 
cidents (of  fact)  from  other  lives. 

To-day  the  grave  covers  Louise  and  her  sorrows  from 
mortal  eyes  ;  but  I  knew  her  years  ago,  after  she  had  made 
her  escape  from  Mormon  despotism,  and  I  promised  my- 
self then  that  it  should  be  my  work  to  denounce  those  at 
whose  hands  she  had  suffered  such  cruel  wrongs. 

In  this  book  I  have  told  only  a  small  part  of  her  story  ; 
and  in  deference  to  those  who  complain  that  the  tragic 
character  of  my  former  history  of  life  in  Utah  is  unrelieved 
by  a  single  gleam  of  light,  I  have  tried  to  dwell  most  upon 
the  brighter  days  that  followed  her  deliverance  from  the 
hands  of  her  enemies. 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  V)\ 

NOTE  E  (PAGE  64). 

A  brief  description  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  Endowment 
House  may  not  be  out  of  place  here.  Though  these  cere- 
monies have  been  changed  from  time  to  time  in  many  par- 
ticulars, the  oaths  which  the  candidate  is  required  to  take 
remain  substantially  the  same. 

The  Endowment  House  in  Salt  Lake  is  a  two-story  adobe 
building,  presenting  the  appearance  of  an  ordinary  dwell- 
ing-house. It  is  situated  in  one  corner  of  what  is  known 
as  the  Temple  Block,  a  large  square  surrounded  by  a  wall 
twelve  feet  high.  This  inclosure  contains  the  Tabernacle, 
a  large  wooden  structure  nearly  the  shape  of  a  tortoise- 
shell,  which  rests  upon  a  very  substantial  rock  foundation. 
East  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  also  within  the  walls,  stands 
the  Temple,  a  magnificent  granite  building  which,  after 
halting  just  above  the  ground  for  twenty  years,  is  now 
rapidly  approaching  completion. 

Certain  days  of  each  week  in  the  year  are  set  apart  by 
the  priesthood  for  what  they  term  "giving  Endowments." 
On  the  morning  of  the  appointed  day,  the  candidates, 
perhaps  twenty  in  number,  repair  to  the  building  already 
described.  After  giving  their  names,  ages,  etc.,  to  the 
officiating  clerk,  the  men  and  women  are  ushered  into 
separate  dressing-rooms. 

Here  they  are  required  to  disrobe,  and  wash  from  head 
to  foot.  Then  the  officiating  priest  or  priestess  anoints 
every  part  of  the  candidate's  body  with  oil,  after  which  each 
one  puts  on  the  garment  of  salvation — an  article  of  ap- 
parel made  exactly  like  a  child's  night-drawers,  cut  in  one 
piece  from  the  shoulder  to  the  ankle. 

This  garment,  once  put  on,  can  never  be  left  off.  When 
the  wearer  changes  it,  one  arm  or  leg  must  be  changed  at 
a  time. 


292  APPENDIX. 

Over  this  garment  the  women  put  on  a  white  skirt,  and 
the  men  an  ordinary  shirt.  Thus  attired,  all  the  candidates 
are  marched  into  Room  No.  2,  where  they  are  seated,  the 
men  on  one  side,  the  women  on  the  other.  They  are  now 
told  by  the  officiating  priest  that  if  they  are  not  strong 
enough  to  go  forward,  they  may  stop  where  they  are,  and 
return  home  without  their  Endowments,  but  that  if  they 
repeat  anything  relating  to  the  ceremonies  through  which 
they  have  already  passed,  their  throats  will  be  cut  from 
ear  to  ear  ! 

They  are  next  ushered  into  Room  No.  3,  supposed  to  rep- 
resent the  Garden  of  Eden.  In  former  days  the  scenes 
enacted  in  this  "  garden"  are  said  to  have  been  disgrace- 
ful beyond  description,  but  at  the  present  time  the  candi- 
dates are  merely  treated  to  a  crude  theatrical  representa- 
tion of  the  temptation  and  fall,  after  which  each  one  is 
clothed  with  a  robe  consisting  of  a  straight  piece  of  linen 
four  yards  long,  gathered  upon  one  shoulder  and  belted  at 
the  waist.  Over  this  robe  they  tie  a  fig-leaf  apron.  They 
also  put  on  the  Temple  head-gear,  that  worn  by  the  men 
being  similar  to  a  baker's  cap.  The  women  put  on  a  cap 
composed  of  a  square  of  Swiss  muslin,  one  corner  of  which 
is  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  veil. 

All  good  Mormons  are  buried  in  their  Endowment 
robes,  and  the  veil  worn  by  the  women  covers  their  faces 
when  they  are  consigned  to  the  grave.  In  the  morning  of 
the  resurrection  this  veil  is  to  be  lifted  by  the  husband  ; 
otherwise  no  woman  can  see  the  face  of  the  Almighty  in 
the  next  world. 

After  being  thus  clothed,  the  candidates  are  driven  out 
of  Eden  into  Room  No.  4,  called  the  World,  where  they 
encounter  many  temptations,  the  chief  of  which  is  the  false 
gospel  preached  by  Methodists,  Baptists,  etc.  Finally  St. 
James  and  St.  John  appear  and  proclaim  the  true  gospel  of 


NOTES   OF  REFERENCE.  "^SZ 

Mormonism,  which  they  all  embrace  gladly  ;  after  this 
they  receive  the  first  grip  belonging  to  the  secret  signs  of 
the  Church,  and  are  ushered  into  Room  No.  5. 

Here  the  candidate  raises  his  right  hand  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  form  a  square  with  his  arm,  and  swears  on  the 
square  to  avenge  the  death  of  Joseph  Smith  on  this  nation, 
and  to  teach  this  vengeance  to  his  children  and  children's 
children  unto  the  fifth  generation.  He  then  imprecates 
upon  himself  the  following  curse  : 

"  If  ever  I  reveal  the  secrets  of  this  House,  may  my 
tongue  be  torn  out  by  the  roots,  and  my  heart  and  bowels 
cut  out  while  I  am  yet  alive  ;  and  if  I  escape  in  this 
world,  may  all  these  penalties  overtake  m,e  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  Resurrection." 

The  candidates  now  pass  into  Room  No.  6,  where  all 
kneel  in  a  circle  and  join  hands.  Kneeling  thus,  they  take 
another  fearful  oath  of  eternal  enmity  to  the  Government 
and  people  of  the  United  States.  They  also  swear  to  obey 
the  rulers  of  the  Church  in  all  things  without  question. 
After  receiving  a  little  more  counsel  concerning  the  duty  of 
taking  vengeance  into  their  own  hands,  they  are  thought 
perfect  enough  to  pass  beyond  the  veil.  This  "  veil  "  con- 
sists of  a  white  curtain  stretched  across  the  room.  The 
candidate  is  directed  to  stand  with  the  breast,  limbs,  and 
abdomen  touching  this  veil,  while  a  person  behind  it  who 
represents  Deity  passes  his  right  hand  through  an  opening 
in  the  curtain  and  cuts  the  mystic  signs  in  the  sacred  gar- 
ment. 

As  soon  as  the  candidates  receive  these  signs  they  pass- 
behind  the  veil  into  Room  No.  7,  which  is  the  last  room  to 
be  entered,  except  by  those  contemplating  marriage. 

Candidates  for  marriage  are  ushered  into  Room  No.  8, 
which  is  the  sealing-room.  Here  husbands  and  wives  who 
have  been  married  outside  of  Utah  are  instructed  that  their 


294  APPENDIX. 

Gentile  marriage  is  null  and  void,  and  they  are  offered  the 

privilege  of  being  sealed  to  each  other  for  time  and  eternity. 
This  offer  they  may  accept  or  decline. 

If  they  decline,  they  are  free  from  each  other,  and  the 
wife  may  be  sealed  to  some  other  man. 

If  they  accept,  they  kneel  at  an  altar,  and  an  ordinary 
marriage  ceremony  is  gone  through  with,  concluding  with 
a  formula  of  blessing  which  seals  them  to  each  other  for 
eternity. 

Candidates  for  plural  marriage  kneel  at  a  similar  altar, 
and  the  first  wife,  if  obedient,  kneels  beside  them  and 
places  the  hand  of  the  new  bride  in  that  of  her  husband. 
Should  the  first  wife  prove  rebellious,  her  presence  at  the 
ceremony  is  dispensed  with.  The  same  service  that  unites 
a  man  to  his  first  wife  is  used  to  "  solemnize"  a  plural 
marriage,  but  at  its  conclusion  this  blessing  is  pronounced 
on  the  pair  : 

"  Forasmuch  as  you  have  entered  into  the  holy  covenant 
of  celestial  marriage,  all  manner  of  sins  shall  be  forgiven 
you,  and  you  shall  inherit  eternal  life." 

******* 

The  above  information  with  regard  to  the  rites  of  the  En- 
dowment House  I  have  obtained  from  a  number  of  persons 
at  different  times  and  places,  and  in  all  important  particu- 
lars the  witnesses  agree  perfectly.  I  have  purposely  omit- 
ted the  grips,  signs,  pass- words,  etc.,  together  with  the 
"  counsel"  of  the  officiating  priest. 

The  ceremonies  are  very  tedious,  lasting  fully  eight 
hours,  and  a  complete  description  of  them  would  fill  a 
volume. 

NOTE  F  (PAGE   lOl). 

In  proof  of  the  assertions  made  in  this  chapter,  I  subjoin 
a  copy  of  a  petition  which  I  drew  up,  by  request,  in  the  win- 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  295- 

ter  of  1872,  when  great  fear  was  felt  by  the  Gentiles  and  by 
those  who  had  left  the  Mormon  Church  that  Brigham 
Young  would  succeed  in  his  schemes  for  getting  Utah  ad- 
mitled  into  the  Union  (in  which  event  the  petitioners 
would  have  been  deprived  of  the  protection  of  Congress 
and  left  wholly  in  the  power  of  the  Mormon  priesthood). 

This  petition  was  signed  by  nearly  five  hundred  women, 
most  of  whom  had  been  residents  of  the  Territory  for  many 
years.  It  is  proper  to  add,  also,  that  in  1872  there  were 
very  few  Gentile  women  in  the  Territory,  and  women  who 
had  once  been  Mormons  signed  the  petition  at  great  per- 
sonal risk.  Many  women  to  whom  the  memorial  was  pre- 
sented said, 

"  Everj'  word  in  it  is  true,  and  we  want  to  sign  it,  but 
we  dare  not." 

"  To  the  Senate  and  Representatives  of  the  United  States 
in  Congress  assembled : 

"  We  your  petitioners,  residents  of  the  Territory  of  Utah, 
the  mothers,  sisters,  and  wives  of  her  loyal  citizens,  appeal 
to  you,  in  the  name  of  justice  and  humanity,  not  to  with- 
draw your  protection  from  us.  Our  sole  dependence  is  up- 
on you.  Only  the  strong  arm  of  the  Federal  Government 
can  secure  to  us,  and  to  our  husbands,  brothers,  and  sons, 
the  enjoyment  of  the  rights  guaranteed  us  by  the  Constitu- 
tion of  our  country. 

'*  For  more  than  twenty  years,  Utah,  though  a  Territory 
of  the  United  States,  and  as  such  nominally  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  Congress,  has  been  in  reality  governed  al- 
together by  the  Mormon  priesthood.  Let  history  tell  the 
nature  of  their  rule  ! 

"  No  more  bloody  despotism  has  disgraced  the  earth  in 
modern  times.  Brigham  Young,  in  the  self-appointed  char- 
acter of  God's  vicegerent,  has  held  the  lives,  liberty,  and 


^9^  APPENDIX. 

property  of  the  people  in  his  hands.  Disobedience  to  him 
has  been  accounted  a  crime  not  to  be  atoned  for  except  by 
blood. 

"  Nothing  that  the  people  possessed  could  be  called  their 
own  except  by  his  will.  Not  only  were  they  required  to 
pay  into  the  Church  treasury  one  tenth  of  all  their  property, 
but  they  were  liable  at  any  time  to  be  ordered  to  give  up 
their  homes  to  the  Prophet  ;  and  this  order  none  dared 
disobey.  Many  of  your  petitioners  have  been  robbed  thus 
in  years  past.  Women  who,  by  the  labor  of  their  own 
hands,  have  earned  the  shelter  of  a  roof  for  themselves  and 
their  little  ones,  have  been  deprived  of  that  shelter  by  Brig- 
ham  Young's  commands.  The  bread  has  been  taken  from 
the  little  children's  mouths  to  swell  the  revenues  of  the 
Church  and  enable  its  rulers  to  add  house  to  house  and 
field  to  field. 

"  But  these  robberies  are  a  little  thing  compared  with 
other  enormities  perpetrated  by  the  despotic  rulers  of  this 
people  in  the  name  of  religion.  During  all  the  years  that 
their  will  has  been  law  in  Utah,  no  man's  life,  no  woman's 
honor  has  been  safe,  if  either  stood  in  their  way.  Never, 
in  this  world,  will  the  history  of  their  dark  and  bloody  deeds 
be  fully  written,  for  the  victim  and  witness  of  many  a 
tragedy  are  hidden  together  in  the  grave. 

"For  twenty  years  none  dared  lift  their  voices  in  com- 
plaint or  condemnation  ;  and  now,  when  liberty  of  speech, 
so  long  denied,  is  vouchsafed,  it  is  fitting  that  woman's 
voice  should  be  heard,  for  woman  has  been  most  cruelly 
wronged. 

"  Will  not  the  representatives  of  this  great  nation  listen 
to  our  appeal  ? 

"  We  adjure  you,  in  the  name  of  the  mothers  who  bore 
you,  of  the  wives  you  love,  of  the  sisters  whose  honor  is 
dear  to  you,  not  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  those  who 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE:.  ^9^7 

ask  protection  from  the  tyranny  of  a  system  that,  through- 
out its  whole  existence,  has  sought  only  to  crush  and  de- 
grade womanhood.  Thousands  of  women  in  the  Territory 
of  Utah  are  to-day  in  a  condition  of  abject  slavery.  Many 
of  them  would  proclaim  their  wrongs  to  the  world  if  they 
dared.  We  appeal  to  you  not  to  take  any  step  that  will 
cut  off  all  hope  of  their  deliverance. 

"  We  know  it  has  been  urged  that  polygamy,  the  curse 
and  blight  of  the  homes  of  Utah,  is  hastening  to  its  death,  and 
that  even  if  the  people  do  not  agree  to  relinquish  it,  it  will 
shortly  fall  before  an  attack  of  natural  forces  consequent 
upon  being  brought  in  contact  with  the  Christian  civiliza- 
tion of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  but  do  the  facts  which  are 
constantly  transpiring  support  this  assertion  ? 

"  During  the  past  three  months  polygamous  marriages 
have  rather  increased  than  diminished.  Since  the  first  of 
November  scores  of  young  girls  have  been  led  up  to  the 
Endowment  House,  and  sealed  to  men  who  had  already 
from  two  to  five  families. 

"Is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  people  who  defy  the 
law  thus  openly,  while  under  the  direct  supervision  of 
Congress,  will  order  their  internal  affairs  more  in  harmony 
with  the  Constitution  when  invested  with  the  prerogatives 
of  a  State  Government  ? 

"  But  the  continuance  of  polygamy  is  not  the  only  ground 
upon  which  your  petitioners  deprecate  the  admission  of 
Utah  into  the  Union.  There  are  other  crimes  and  other 
tyrannies  that  will  most  assuredly  be  perpetuated  in  such 
an  event. 

*'  The  Constitution  of  our  country  guarantees  to  every 
one  of  its  law-abiding  citizens  the  rights  of  life,  liberty,  and 
the  pursuit  of  happiness.  The  principles  which  govern  the 
majority  in  Utah  make  these  rights  dependent  upon  the 
will  of  a  single  man,  who  has  already  been  guilty  of  incredi- 


298  APPENDIX. 

ble  abuse  of  power.  The  history  of  his  reign  (for  it  is  noth- 
ing else)  is  written  in  characters  of  blood.  Some  of  your 
petitioners  have  known  what  it  is  to  incur  his  displeasure 
and  tremble  for  their  lives  ;  others  have  had  their  prop- 
erty torn  from  them,  and  their  dearest  interests  ruthlessly 
trampled  upon  by  him.  Will  Congress  consign  them  again 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  this  man  and  his  coadjutors  ? 

"  A  number  of  your  petitioners  have  become  residents  of 
Utah  within  two  years  past.  Relying  upon  the  protection 
of  the  Federal  Government,  we,  with  our  families,  have 
sought  homes  here  ;  but  though  we,  our  husbands,  and  our 
sons,  have  been  peaceably  engaged  about  our  private  du- 
ties, and  have  in  no  way  interfered  with  the  rights  of  the 
earlier  settlers,  we  have  been  regarded  as  unwelcome  in- 
truders, and  have  been  forced  to  live  as  though  in  an 
enemy's  country. 

"  We  have  been  told  repeatedly,  through  the  columns  of 
the  Deseret  News  (the  official  organ  of  the  Mormon 
Church),  that  in  the  event  of  Utah's  becoming  a  State,  if 
we  do  not  choose  to  be  ruled  by  the  majority,  we  can 
leave — the  railroad  is  open. 

"  We  are  duly  sensible  of  the  graciousness  of  this  permis- 
sion, but  there  are  some  obstacles  in  the  way  of  our  avail- 
ing ourselves  of  it.  Many  of  us  have  our  all  invested  here, 
and  would  be  forced  to  leave  empty-handed.  Still,  that 
would  be  preferable  to  remaining  here  under  the  rule  of 
those  who  have  shown  themselves  incapable  of  either  jus- 
tice or  mercy,  and  determined  to  ignore  every  principle 
which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  our  republican  institutions. 
Our  prayer  to  you,  the  representatives  of  a  free  people,  is 
that  you  will  not  take  such  action  as  will  force  upon  us 
either  alternative." 

(Signed)  Mrs.  Wm.  S.  Godbe, 

and  four  hundred  and  seventy-three  other  signers. 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  299 

Read  and  referred  to  the  Committee  on  Territories,  and 
ordered  to  be  printed,  with  the  names  of  the  petitioners  and 
the  accompanying  letter : 

"  Salt  Lake,  U.  T.,  March  12,  1872. 
**  To  Hon.  S.  Colfax,  Vice-President  of  the  United  States, 
and  ex-offi.cio  President  of  the  Senate  : 

"  Sir  :  We  have  this  day  forwarded  to  your  care,  per 
Wells,  Fargo  and  Co.'s  Express,  a  petition  to  Congress, 
strongly  deprecating  the  admission  of  Utah  into  the  Union 
at  the  present  time.  This  petition  is  signed  by  more  than 
four  hundred  of  the  loyal  women  of  the  Territory.  A 
large  majority  of  the  signers  have  been  residents  of  Utah 
and  members  of  the  Mormon  Church  for  many  years,  and 
numbers  of  them  have  a  personal  and  very  bitter  expe- 
rience of  the  practical  workings  of  polygamy.  They  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  their  wrongs  would  be  inten- 
sified by  the  admission  of  Utah  into  the  Union,  and  the 
consequent  accession  of  power  to  the  Mormon  priesthood. 
In  the  name  of  these  women,  who  have  been  so  cruelly 
wronged,  we  earnestly  request  you  to  lay  this  petition  at 
once  before  the  honorable  bodies  to  whom  it  is  addressed. 

"  Mrs.  a.  G.  Paddock, 
"  Mrs.  B.  a.  M.  Froiseth, 
"  Mrs.  O.  p.  Miles, 
"  Mrs.  H.  W.  Lawrence, 
"  Mrs.  J.  B.  Kimball, 
"  Mrs.  Wm.  S.  Godbe, 

note  g  (page  103). 

The  facility  with  which  divorces  have  always  been  ob- 
tained in  Utah  is  a  suggestive  commentary  upon  the  pe- 
culiar marriage  system  of  the  Saints.     Again   and   again 


Committee. 


3oO  APPENDIX. 

parties  have  been  sealed  to  each  other  "  for  time  and  eter- 
nity," and  in  less  than  six  months  divorced  by  the  sama 
power  that  sealed  them. 

It  has  been  well  said  by  one  of  the  elders  of  the  Reor- 
ganized Church  (a  sect  which,  although  it  accepts  the  Book 
of  Mormon  repudiates  polygamy)  that  multitudes  ot 
women  in  Utah  have  been  divorced  and  remarried  so 
many  times  that  they  scarcely  know  themselves  by  name. 
It  is  a  common  thing  to  find  women  living  in  polygamy 
who  have  been  divorced  three  or  four  times  from  as  many 
different  husbands. 

An  Englishwoman  who,  a  few  years  ago,  abandoned  her 
husband  and  children  for  the  purpose  of  gathering  with  the 
Saints  to  Zion,  has  been  divorced  and  remarried  five  times 
since  she  came  to  Utah.  The  present  writer  has  lived 
within  half  a  block  of  a  woman  who,  after  being  divorced 
from  five  husbands,  is  now  living  in  polygamy  with  the 
sixth  ;  and  one  of  our  district  judges  reports  the  case  of  an 
elderly  Saintess,  living  near  the  place  m  which  he  holds 
court,  who  has  been  davorceA  fourteen  times. 

NOTE  H   (PAGE   I07). 

The  incident  related  happened  in  the  family  of  a  per- 
sonal friend  of  the  writer,  and  it  is  an  example,  by  no 
means  unusual,  of  the  manner  in  which  the  tithing  has 
always  been  collected,  and  the  priesthood  enriched  at  the 
expense  of  the  people.  Whatever  "  the  Lord"  calls  for 
must  be  given  up  at  once,  and  while  Brigham  Young  lived, 
he  was,  as  Heber  Kimball  was  accustomed  to  say  in  his 
sermons,  "  the  only  Lord  that  this  people  had  anything  to 
do  with." 

But  the  collecting  of  tithes  to  the  extent  of  taking  the 
poor  man's  last  cow  was  by  no  means  the  only  plan  re- 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  3°! 

lied  upon  by  the  leaders  of  the  people  for  filling  their 
coffers.  A  friend  of  the  writer,  belonging  to  a  respectable 
and  wealthy  family  in  the  Eastern  States,  relates  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  In  184-  my  father  was  induced  by  a  Mormon  mission- 
ary to  emigrate  to  Nauvoo.  He  went  in  advance  of  the 
family,  taking  a  large  sum  of  money  with  him.  Soon  after 
his  arrival  he  wrote  for  us,  stating  that  he  had  bought  a 
house  and  lot,  and  that  we  would  find  a  good  home  await- 
ing us.  We  started  at  once,  but  when  we  were  within  a 
few  miles  of  Nauvoo  we  were  met  by  the  Missionary  re- 
ferred to,  who  told  us  that  father  had  died  suddenly. 

"  On  reaching  the  city  we  were  unable  to  learn  anything 
of  the  time  or  manner  of  his  death.  We  never  found  out 
where  he  was  buried,  or,  indeed,  whether  he  was  buried 
at  all  ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  we  have  never  been  able  to 
get  any  information  about  the  house  and  lot  that  he  bought, 
or  about  any  of  the  property  that  he  left." 

NOTE  I   (PAGE   120). 

The  present  boundaries  of  the  Territory  of  Utah  differ 
much  from  those  of  the  "  kingdom"  which  Brigham 
Young  set  up  in  the  Great  Basin,  after  taking  possession 
of  the  same  "  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

When  the  Mormon  pioneers  entered  Salt  Lake  Valley,  in 
the  summer  of  1847,  the  country  belonged  to  Mexico,  but 
in  March,  1848,  five  months  before  the  arrival  of  the  emi- 
grant company  for  which  they  had  prepared  the  way,  it 
was  ceded  to  the  United  States  by  the  treaty  of  Guadaloupe 
Hidalgo. 

Such  a  small  matter  as  this  treaty  was,  however,  of  no 
consequence  to  the  Saints,  to  whom  the  lands  of  the  Gen- 
tiles had  been  given  for  an  inheritance,  zjxA.  a  yea;"  a|tqr-« 


302  APPENDIX. 

ward  (March  i8th,  1849)  ^^^Y  "''C'  i^^  convention  and  or- 
ganized 

"  A  free  and  independent  government  by  the  name  ol 
the  State  of  Deseret." 

I  quote  from  their  own  words,  as  found  in  a  copy  of  the 
original  document  now  before  me.  The  boundaries  of  the 
State  of  Deseret,  as  set  forth  in  this  document,  embrace 
the  whole  of  the  present  State  of  California,  together  with 
half  a  dozen  other  States  and  Territories. 

Soon  after  the  organization  of  this  "free  and  indepen- 
dent State,"  Brigham  Young  sent  a  delegate  to  Washing- 
ton avowedly  to  open  negotiations  looking  to  the  admis- 
sion of  Deseret  into  the  Union  ;  but  the  tone  he  assumed 
was  very  like  that  of  a  foreign  power  demanding  recogni- 
tion. 

The  following  year  (September  9th,  1850)  Congress, 
cruelly  ignoring  the  great  State  of  Deseret,  organized  the 
present  Territory  of  Utah  within  much  narrower  limits, 
reserving  to  itself  the  right  to  cut  up  said  Territory  when 
it  should  be  deemed  expedient,  and  annex  portions  of  it  to 
other  States  and  Territories.  This  high-handed  proceed- 
ing on  the  part  of  Congress  was,  however,  toned  down  a 
little  by  the  appointment  of  Brigham  Young  as  Governor — 
an  office  which  he  announced  that  he  should  hold  until  the 
Almighty  ordered  him  to  resign  it ;  as,  in  fact,  he  did. 

Up  to  the  day  of  the  death  of  its  "founder,"  the  State 
of  Deseret  existed  de  facto,  with  Brigham  Young  as  Gov- 
ernor, and  the  aforesaid  State  still  exists  in  spite  of  the 
Territorial  organization. 

Once  in  two  years  the  Utah  Legislature  (composed  of 
thirty-nine  Mormon  high  priests,  thirty-six  of  whom  are  at 
present  living  in  polygamy)  convenes,  and  the  Federal 
Government  pays  the  members  \h.t\r  per  diem  and  mileage. 
Puring  the  life-time  of  Brigham  Young,  he,  in  the  charac- 


XOTES  UF  REFERENCE.  y^l 

ter  of  Governor  of  Deseret,  convened  them  as  a  State  Leg- 
islature on  the  day  succeeding  the  adjournment  of  the  Ter- 
ritorial Legislature,  and  the  business  of  the  State  was  then 
and  there  transacted. 

Since  Brigham  Young's  death,  John  Taylor,  who  suc- 
ceeds him  as  President  of  Church,  inherits  likewise  the 
office  of  Governor  of  Deseret — for  Church  and  State  are 
here  one  and  inseparable.    Comment  is  unnecessary. 

NOTE  J   (PAGE   1 60). 

Those  who  have  any  curiosity  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  details  of  the  hand-cart  emigration  to  Utah  in 
1856  are  referred  to  the  tragic  account  given  by  Mr.  John 
Chislett,  in  Stenhouse's  "  Rocky  Mountain  Saints." 

Mr.  Chislett  was  one  of  the  captains  of  hundreds  se- 
lected to  take  charge  of  the  emigration  across  the  plains, 
and  it  was  due  in  a  great  measure  to  his  heroic  exertions 
that  so  many  of  the  people  lived  to  reach  Utah. 

Mr.  Chislett,  in  common  with  hundreds  who  left  England 
with  him,  was  at  that  time  a  sincere  believer  in  the  New 
Gospel ;  but  his  experiences  on  the  way  to  Zion  and  after 
his  arrival  in  the  Valleys  of  the  Mountains,  convinced  him 
that  Mormonism  had,  to  say  the  least,  no  claim  to  a  di- 
vine origin,  and  he  severed  his  connection  with  the  Church 
at  a  time  when  such  a  course  involved  much  personal  risk. 

NOTE    K  (PAGE   1 76). 

The  sermons  of  Brigham  Young  and  his  two  counsel- 
ors. Grant  and  Kimball,  as  reported  and  published  in  the 
Deseret  News,  the  official  organ  of  the  Mormon  Church, 
furnish  abundant  information  as  to  the  doctrine  of  blood- 
atonement,  and  it  is  from  these  sources  that  I  have  col- 
lated the  following  : 


304  APPENDIX. 

Blood-atonement,  as  preached  by  the  Mormon  leaders 
and  practiced  by  the  people,  means  the  offering  of  human 
eacrifices  for  the  remission  of  sins.    Brigham  Young  says  : 

"  There  are  certain  sins  which  the  blood  of  Christ  can- 
not wash  away  ;  but  when  a  man's  own  blood  is  shed,  and 
the  smoke  thereof  ascends  as  sweet  incense  to  Heaven, 
then  are  his  sins  remitted." 

He  likewise  taught  the  people,  in  his  published  ser- 
mons, that  to  love  their  neighbor  as  themselves  meant  that 
they  should  be  willing  to  shed  their  neighbor's  blood,  in 
order  that  in  the  next  world  he  might  be  exalted  among 
the  gods. 

J.  Grant,  Brigham  Young*  s  counselor,  taught  that  in 
order  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  blood  in  a  manner  pleasing 
to  Heaven,  altars  of  unhewn  stone  should  be  erected, 
and  the  victim  laid  thereon,  and  his  throat  cut  with  a 
knife,  and  added, 

"  I  wish  we  were  in  a  situation  to  obey  the  laws  of  God 
in  this  thing  without  hindrance." 

Closely  allied  to  the  doctrine  of  blood-atonement  is  the 
"  principle,"  so  called,  that  the  Church  has  a  right  superior 
to  the  right  of  the  civil  government,  to  inflict  the  penalty  of 
death  upon  offenders  ;  and  this  idea  obtained  so  firm  a  hold 
in  Utah  that  persons  either  in  or  out  of  the  Church  who 
were  accused  of  anything  which  the  Mormon  code  pro- 
nounced a  crime,  had  no  chance  whatever  to  vindicate 
themselves  in  a  court  of  law,  but  were  either  shot  down  by 
Danites  who  lay  in  wait  for  them,  or  arrested,  and  killed 
while  in  the  hands  of  officers. 

I  will  give  a  single  well-known  instance,  the  sequel  ot 
which  I  witnessed  myself. 

A  young  man  named  Skeen  was  suspected  of  a  disposi- 
tion to  apostatize.  Thereupon  he  was  accused  of  cattle- 
stealing,  and  upon  this  accusation  was  arrested  and  held  in 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  305 

custody  by  the  sheriff,  who  was  also  a  Mormon  high 
priest. 

The  place  of  his  confinement  was  a  school-house,  in 
which  he  was  guarded  by  Ricks,  the  sheriff,  and  a  man 
named  Chambers.  After  Skeen  lay  down  to  sleep,  Ricks 
said  to  Chambers, 

"  Whatever  you  may  see  to-night,  your  business  is  to 
keep  still." 

Not  long  afterward,  when  the  sleeper's  breathing 
showed  his  slumber  to  be  sound.  Ricks  placed  his  gun  to 
the  young  man's  breast  and  fired.  The  victim  sprang  up, 
ran  to  the  door,  fell,  and  in  a  few  minutes  expired.  It  was 
afterward  given  out  that  he  was  killed  in  attempting  to  es- 
cape, but  the  testimony  of  Chambers,  who  was  an  eye-wit- 
ness of  the  whole  affair,  was  corroborated  by  that  of  several 
other  men  who  ran  to  the  school-house  when  the  shot  was 
fired,  and  who  testified  that  the  gun  which  inflicted  the 
fatal  wound  had  been  held  so  close  to  Skeen' s  breast  as  to 
set  his  clothing  on  fire. 

Yet  in  the  face  of  this  positive  testimony  a  Mormon  jury 
pronounced  Ricks  "  not  guilty,"  and  his  fellow-saints  es- 
corted him  home  with  a  band  of  music,  flags  flying,  etc. — 
a  procession  which  I  saw  and  of  which  everybody  under- 
stood the  meaning. 

It  is  proper  to  add  that  the  witnesses  at  Ricks'  trial  were 
men  who,  after  the  murder,  left  the  Mormon  Church.  No 
Mormon  could  by  any  means  be  induced  to  testify  against 
a  brother  Saint. 

NOTE  L  (PAGE   1 76). 

Out  of  a  multitude  of  cases  that  might  be  adduced  in 
support  of  this  statement,  I  will  quote  two  of  the  most  no- 
torious ; 


3o6  APPENDIX. 

Bill  Hickman,  the  Danite,  who  according  to  his  own 
confession  committed  nineteen  murders,  was  a  Mormon  in 
good  standing  throughout  his  career  of  crime,  and  was  a 
member  of  the  Utah  Legislature  at  a  time  when  he  was 
killing  men  in  obedience  to  "  counsel"  every  few  months. 

John  D.  Lee,  one  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  butchery 
of  Mountain  Meadows,  was  rewarded  for  his  share  in  the 
massacre  by  a  seat  in  the  Legislature,  though  at  the  time 
he  held  several  other  offices  of  trust  and  profit ;  for  a  plu- 
rality of  offices  is  allowed  in  Utah  as  well  as  a  plurality  of 
wives. 

NOTE  M   (PAGE   1 78). 

The  occurrence  here  alluded  to  is  a  matter  of  history. 
In  1862  J.  W.  Dawson,  of  Indiana,  was  appointed  Gov- 
ernor of  Utah.  He  was  unwelcome,  as  Federal  officers 
were  apt  to  be. 

Brigham  Young  caused  some  charge  to  be  made  against 
him,  and  he  was  ordered  to  leave  the  Territory. 

A  number  of  young  men  who  were  charged  with  the 
business  of  seeing  that  this  order  was  carried  out,  gave  the 
Governor  a  severe  beating,  but  either  because  they  ipis- 
understood  their  instructions,  or  because  of  an  unwilling- 
ness to  shed  blood,  they  allowed  him  to  escape  with  his 
life.  Brigham  believed  with  Napoleon  that  a  blunder  is 
worse  than  a  crime.  He  caused  the  arrest  of  the  young 
men,  and  the  officers  having  them  in  charge,  who  could 
not  afford  to  misunderstand  their  instructions,  coolly  shot 
them  down. 

The  bodies  of  two  of  the  young  men — brothers— were  left 
at  their  father's  door  with  the  laconic  order  : 

"  Bury  them." 

Brigham  Young  took  pains  to  be  present  at  their  funeral. 
He  commanded  the  mother  not  to  shed  a  tear  for  her  un-i 


NOTES   OF  REFERENCE.  307 

worthy  sons,  and  told  the  women  present  not  to  offer  her 
any  sympathy  ;  and  so  absolute  was  the  power  he  exer- 
cised that  those  whose  hearts  were  full  of  pity  for  the  be- 
reaved mother  turned  away  from  her  without  a  word. 

NOTE  N  (PAGE  207). 

I  have  given  here  the  exact  words  of  a  woman  whom  I 
number  among  my  personal  friends  :  a  woman  of  fine 
mind  and  noble  presence,  worthy,  every  way,  of  a  better 
fate.  It  was  her  misfortune,  when  very  young,  to  become 
the  wife  of  a  man  who  was  afterward  a  Mormon  apostle. 
When  she  had  a  family  of  little  children,  this  man  was 
sealed  to  two  girls  on  the  same  day.  He  afterward  took 
eight  more  women  as  his  plural  wives. 

He  is  living  to-day,  and  is  one  of  the  strongest  advocates 
of  polygamy. 

NOTE  o  (page  213), 

A  number  of  years  ago,  when  the  Government  was 
making  some  effort  to  ferret  out  evidence  concerning  a  few 
of  the  more  atrocious  crimes  committed  in  Utah  by  the 
Mormon  priesthood,  a  detective  placed  in  my  hands  the 
following  statement  : 

"  In  the  year  186-,  a  person  who  had  recently  come  to 
Utah  bought  a  house  and  lot  in  the  19th  Ward,  Salt  Lake 
City.  Soon  after  making  the  purchase,  and  while  engaged 
in  uprooting  some  of  the  trees  in  the  orchard  and  setting 
out  others,  he  broke  into  a  pit  containing  the  remains  of 
seven  human  beings — a  man,  a  woman,  and  five  children. 
The  bodies  were  in  an  advanced  state  of  decomposition,  but 
the  rawhide  thongs  with  which  the  arms  of  each  one  were 
bound  were  still  in  place 

"  The  man  who  made  this  discovery  was  a  Mormon,  but 


3o8  ^rPFN'PIX. 

he  was  new  to  the  Territory  and  ignorant  of  the  doctrine 
of  blood-atonement,  and  he  supposed  it  to  be  his  duty  to 
put  the  officers  of  justice  on  the  track  of  the  crime  whose 
evidences  he  had  unearthed.  He  therefore  repaired  at 
once  to  police  headquarters,  and  told  his  stor)'. 

"  He  was  there  informed  that  his  only  duty  with  regard  to 
the  discovery  he  had  made  was  to  say  nothing  about  it, 
and  ask  no  questions. 

"  That  night  a  detachment  of  the  police  force  took  up 
the  bodies  and  reburied  them  outside  of  the  old  city  wall. 

"  When  I  was  made  acquainted  with  the  foregoing  facts, 
I  sought  out  the  spot  indicated  as  the  second  place  of 
burial,  and  dug  up  the  remains,  which  by  this  time  were 
skeletons.  The  skulls  of  the  children  as  well  as  of  the 
grown  persons  were  crushed  in,  as  if  from  a  blow  with  a 
bludgeon  or  crowbar.  I  also  found  in  the  pit  the  rawhide 
thongs  which  had  been  used  to  bind  the  victims. 

"  I  made  a  detailed  report  of  the  matter  to  the  Federal 
authorities  in  the  Territory,  but  they  were  not  clothed  with 
power  sufficient  to  trace  or  punish  the  perpetrator  of  the 
crime,  and  so  far  as  my  knowledge  extends  no  effort  has 
ever  been  made  in  that  direction." 

(Signed,)  S.  G." 

NOTE  P   (PAGE  221). 

Independence  Hall  was  a  small  adobe  building  capable 
of  seating  about  two  hundred  persons.  It  has  since  been 
remodeled,  enlarged,  and  neatly  furnished,  and  is  now 
known  as  the  Congregational  Chapel.  It  is  situated  on 
Third  South  Street,  half  a  block  west  of  Main  Street. 

While  General  Connor  commanded  at  Camp  Douglas, 
Rev.  N.  McLeod,  post  chaplain,  conceived  what  seemed 
then  the  chimerical  idea  of  establishing  a  Christian  mis- 


NOTES  OF  REFERENCE.  309 

sion  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Mormon  capital,  and  being  a 
man  of  great  courage  and  firmness  of  purpose,  he  finally 
succeeded.  The  building  afterward  known  as  Indepen- 
dence Hall  was  erected  by  the  aid  of  the  officers  at  Camp 
Douglas  and  a  few  others  who  felt  an  interest  in  the 
undertaking,  and,  in  spite  of  the  threats  of  the  Mormon 
hierarchy,  regular  services  were  opened,  followed  by  a 
Sunday-school.  In  the  first  place,  almost  the  only  attend- 
ants were  the  soldiers,  the  few  Gentiles  in  the  city,  the 
officers  and  their  wives,  and  the  families  who  had  taken 
refuge  at  the  post ;  but  soon  disaffected  MormofvS  began 
to  drop  in,  and  the  Sabbath-school  proved  so  great  an  at- 
traction that  Mormon  children  went  again  and  again, 
though  punished  for  going  as  often  as  the  fact  was  discov- 
ered. 

This  state  of  affairs  could  not  continue  long.  Recalci- 
trant Mormons  who  had  been  to  the  hall  were  notified  that 
if  they  went  again  their  lives  would  be  forfeited,  mobs 
broke  up  the  meetings,  and  finally  the  superintendent  of 
the  Sabbath-school,  Dr.  J.  K.  Robinson,  was  brutally  mur- 
dered within  a  few  yards  of  his  own  door  and  of  the  hall, 
into  which  his  bleeding  body  was  carried. 

NOTE  Q   (PAGE  223). 

The  penalties  attached  to  the  Endowment  oaths  are  re- 
volting beyond  belief,  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  pub- 
lish the  details  of  the  punishments  which  the  Mormon  code 
prescribes  for  offences  of  every  degree.  The  simplest  and 
mildest  penalty  invoked  upon  covenant-breakers  is  that 
their  throats  shall  be  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  and  in  many  in- 
stances this  penalty  has  been  (mercifully  ?)  commuted  and 
the  offender  shot  instead. 

In  at  least  one  well-known  instance  (that  of  Julia  H — , 


3IO  APPENDIX, 

an  unfortunate  plural  wife,  whose  husband  at  present  fills 
an  important  office  in  this  city),  the  victim  was  allowed 
the  alternative  of  death  by  poison  ;  but  in  the  case  of  the 
two  women  to  whom  I  have  alluded  in  this  chapter,  trust- 
worthy testimony  makes  it  only  too  clear  that  they  were 
sacrificed  with  attendant  barbarities  which  could  not  be 
paralleled  outside  of  the  darkest  abodes  of  paganism. 

NOTE  R   (PAGE  260). 

In  1867,  less  than  a  year  after  the  murder  of  Dr.  Robinson 
and  the  breaking  up  of  McLeod's  school  and  congregation. 
Christian  missionaries  were  found  courageous  enough  to 
make  a  second  attempt  in  the  same  direction.  In  that 
year  religious  services  were  commenced  and  a  school 
opened  under  the  auspices  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  and  in  spite  of  opposition  and  threats  the  mission- 
aries maintained  their  ground  and  continued  to  exercise  a 
powerful  influence  for  good  among  the  many  whose  faith 
in  Mormonism  had  been  uprooted  by  a  discovery  of  the 
crimes  of  the  leaders  and  the  inherent  evils  of  the  system. 


SOME  INTERESTING  BOOKS 


BITS  OF  ORE  FROM  RICH  MINES. 


THE  ''NUGGETS^'  SERIES. 


"Don't  Worry"  Nufireets:  From  Epictetus,  Emer- 
son, George  Eliot,  Robert  Browning.  Gathered  by 
Jeanne  G.  Pennington.    Portrait  of  Emerson. 

"Might  be  marked  Multum  in  Parvo.  .  .  Hardly  a 
paragraph  that  does  not  bring  a  new  sense  of  strength  and 
Qoraiort."— Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

Patriotic  Nufirsrets:  From  Franklin,  Washington, 
Jefferson,  Webster.  Lincoln,  Beecher.  Gathered  by 
John  R.  Howard.    Portrait  of  Washington. 

"  A  peculiarly  suggestive,  readable,  useful  compound  of 
great  historic  thoughts  from  the  greatest  Americans."— 
Denver  {Col.')  Republican. 

Educational  Nuffsets :  From  Plato,  Aristotle,  Rout* 
seau,  Herbart,  Spencer,  Harris,  Butler,  Eliot.  Gath« 
ered  by  John  R.  Howard.    Portrait  of  Plato. 

"  No  teacher,  no  parent,  and  no  thoughtful  person  likely 
to  become  either  one  or  the  other,  but  would  benefit  deeply 
hy  scanning  and  heeding  these  admirable  selections.*'— 
The  Examiner,  New  York. 

Philosophic  Nuffsets  :  From  Carlyle,  Ruskin,  Charles 
Kingsley,  Amiel.  Gathered  by  Jeanne  G.  Pennington. 
Portrait  of  Carlyle. 

"  A  handy  book,  containing  master  thoughts  from  mas- 
ter minds,  is  a  desirable  companion,  stimulating  in  thought 
and  SiCtion"— Sunday-School  Times. 


Uniform  size  and  style :  3I  *y  si ;  flexible  cloth,  gilt  top  t 
ifi  cents  per  vol. 


FORDS,   HOWARD,  &  HULBERT, 
47  East  zoth  St.,  New  York. 


FASCINATING  OUT-DOOR  BOOKS. 

"A  keen  and  observant  naturalist."— Z,<?«a?o«  {Eng^ 
Morning  Post. 

THEODORE  S.  VAN  DYKE. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  writes  of  this  author  :  "Mr. 
Van  Dyke,  a  graduate  of  a  New  England  college,  has  lived 
nearly  twenty  years  in  Southern  California,  and  hunted, 
fished,  and  tramped  over  every  acre  of  it.  He  is  the 
most  competent,  accomplished,  and  level-headed  historian 
California  ever  had.  He  has  a  very  practical  turn,  and  is 
thoroughly  a  man  of  affairs,  and  by  experience  thoroughly 
up  in  agriculture,  horticulture,  the  problem  of  immigra- 
tion, etc.  Besides  all  this,  he  has  uncommon  powers  of 
description  and  a  genuine  literary  gift." 

MR.  VAN  DYKE^S  BOOKS. 

Game  Birds  at  Home:  The  haunts  and  habits  of 
American  game  birds  from  New  England  to  Califor- 
nia.   Cloth,  decorated,  gilt  top,  $i.so. 

Southern  California :  Its  Valleys,  Hills,  and  Streams; 
its  Animals,  Birds,  and  Fishes;  its  Gardens,  Farms, 
and  Climate.    Extra  cloth,  i2tno,  $1.50. 

The  Still  Hunter:  A  Practical  Treatise  on  Deer 
Stalking.    Extra  cloth,  i2mo,  Ss.oo. 

Millionaires  of  a  Day:  An  Inside  History  of  the 
Great  Southern  California  Land  Boom.  Extra  cloth, 
$1.00  :  paper,  JO  cents. 

The  Rifle,  Rod,  and  Gun  in  California:  A  Sport- 
ing Romance.    Extra  cloth,  iztno,  $1.50. 


"  His  style  is  crisp,  his  portrayals  of  human  nature 
witty,  his  description  of  the  land  admirable." — Alta  Cali- 
fornia, San  Francisco. 

"  May  be  safely  trusted." — London  (Eng.)  Times. 

"  Most  truthful  and  interesting." — New  York  Sun. 


FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBERT, 
47  East  loth  St.,  New  York. 


NOVELS  of  the  SOUTH. 

Hot  Plowshares  (Rise  of  Anti-Slavery  Sentiment).    $1.50. 

"  Completes  that  series  of  historical  novels  .  .  .  which 
have  illustrated  so  forcibly  and  graphically  the  era  of  our 
Civil  War— the  causes  that  led  up  to  it  and  the  conse- 
quences resulting  from  it.  .  .  Forcible,  picturesque."— 
Chicago  Evening- Journal. 
rigs  and   Thistles  (A  Typical  American  Career).    $1.50. 

"  Crowded  with  incident .  .  .  strong  characters  .  .  .  hu- 
mor .  .  .  absorbing  xrAQTcsX.'"— Boston  Commonwealth. 
A  Boyal  Oentleman  (Master  and  Slave).    $1.50. 

"  Grasps  historic  lines  and  mingles  with  them  threads  of 
love,  mystery,  adventure,  crime,  battlefield,  and  hospital." 
— Albany  Evening  Journal. 

A  Fool's  Errand  and  The  invisible  Empire  (Reconstruc- 
tion).   $1.50. 

"The  book  will  rank  among  the  famous  novels  that, 
once  written,  must  be  read  by  everybody." — Portland 
Advertiser. 
Bricks  Without  Straw  (The  Bondage  of  the  Freedman), 

$1.50. 

"  Scarcely  anything  in  fiction  so  powerful  has  been  writ- 
ten, from  a  merely  literary    standpoint,  as  these    two 
books  [A  Fool's  Errand :  Bricks  IVitnout  Straui] — Spring- 
field (.Mass.)  Republican. 
John  Eaz  (The  South  Without  the  Shadow).    $1.25. 

"Rare  pictures  of  Southern  life  drawn  by  a  Northern 
hand,  in  a  manner  as  masterly  as  it  is  natural." — Vicks- 
burg  (Miss.)  Herald. 

OTHER  WORKS. 

Mnrvale  Eastman:   Christian    Socialist.      (Cloth,    $1.50. 
Uniform  Edition.") 

"  A  thrilling  story  of  everyday  life  .  .  .  vividly  por- 
trayed."—^oj/ow  Traveller. 

"A  great  book  .  .  .  wise,  hopeful,  artistic,  with  abroad 
basis  of  the  soundest  s^nsQ."— Bishop  John  H.  Vincent. 
Black  Ice.  A  Story  of  the  North  A  ringing  wmter ; 
youth  and  love ;  thoroughbred  horses;  curious  and  in- 
teresting rural  characters.  Cloth,  $1.50.  Uniform 
Edition. 

"Really  original."— ^^i'/t>;/  Gazette. 
"Thoroughly  interesting."— CV/iVrai'O  Inter-Ocean. 
Uniform  Illustrated  Edition,  $1.50  per  Vol.  (except  John 
Eax,  $1.25).     Set,  8  Vols.,  boxed,  $11.50. 

FORDS,   HOWARD,   &  HULBERT, 
47  East  loth  St.,  New  York. 


By  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

Bible  Studies  :  Readings  {Genesis  to  Ruth),  with  familiar 
Comment.    Editedby  J.  R.  Howard.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

A  Book  of  Prayer:  Invocations,  Prayers  before  Ser- 
mon, and  Closing  Prayers  from  unpublished  notes  of 
T.J.  Ellin  wood.    Cloth,  75  cts. ;  cloth,  gilt,  $1.00. 

Comforting  Thoughts :  For  Bereavement,  Illness,  and 
Adversity.  Compiled  by  Irene  Ovington.  Vignettes. 
Cloth,  limp,  75  cts.;  cloth,  gilt,  $1.00. 

Beecher  as  a  Humorist.  Wit  and  Humor  from  his 
Works.  Compiled  by  Elean  Kirk.  Cloth,  75  cts.; 
cloth,  gilt,  $1 .00. 

["  A  Book  of  Prayer,"  "  Comforting  Thoughts,"  "  Beecher 
as  a  Humorist."     Uniformly  bound,  in  a  box,  $2.35.] 

Original  Plymouth  Pulpit,  1868  to  1873.  Ten  vols,  (origi- 
nally 825-00)  in  Five  Volumes.    Cloth,  $12.50,  net. 

Plymouth  Pulpit.  New  Series.  Four  volumes,  1873-74. 
Cloth,  per  vol.,  $1.50. 

Evolution  and  Beligion.  Part  I.— Theoretical ;  paper, 
50  cts.  Part  II. — Practical  and  Vital ;  paper,  $x.oo. 
Bound  in  one  vol.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

Patriotic  Addresses :  Slavery.  Civil  War  (with  the 
Speeches  in  England,  1863),  and  Civil  Liberty  in  the 
United  States,  1850-85.  With  a  Review  of  his  Life,  Per- 
sonality, and  Public  Influence,  by  John  R.  Howard. 
Portraits.    Cloth,  $a.oo. 

Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching.  I.— Personal  Elements  ;  II. 
--Social  and  Religious  Machinery  ;  III.— Christian  Doc- 
trines. Thirty-three  Lectures.  960  pages.  Three  vols, 
in  One.    Vellum  cloth,  $3.00. 

Life  of  Jesus  the  Christ-  Completed  Edition,  2  vols., 
Ilustrated.  Cloth.  $3.50.  Either  vol.,  singly,  cloth, 
$1.75.    The  3  vols,  in  One  (^Frontispiece),  $3.00. 

Lectures  to  Young  Men :  On  Various  Important  Subjects. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

Royal  Truths.  Reported  from  his  Spoken  Words.  Fourth 
American  from  Sixth  English  Edition.    Cloth,  $1.35. 

Norwood.  Village  Life  in  New  England.  Mr.  Beecher's 
only  Novel.  Cloth,  Popular  Edition,  $1.35,  paper, 
50  cts. 

Metaphors  and  Similes  :  Compiled  by  T.  J.  Ellinwood,  In- 
troduction by  Homer  B.  Sprague,  Ph.  D.  Portrait, 
Cloth,  $1.00. 

Autobiographical  Beminiscences-  Edited  by  T.  J.  Ellin- 
wood-    Portrait.    75  cts. 

FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBERT, 
47  East  loth  St.,  New  York. 


1Flature'0  fIDiraclee: 

FAMILIAR   TALKS    ON   SCIENCE. 

By  Prof.  ELISHA  GRAY. 


Vol.  I.— 1KHorID  JBulIOitifl  anO  Xife : 

£artb,  Bic,  anb  TIClatet. 

Vol.  II.— Bnergs  anD  IDlbration : 

jFocce,  "beat,  ligbt,  Sound,  Sfploefvee. 

Vol.  III.— Blcctrfcltg  anO  flbagnettsm. 


Elisha  Gray  is  a  name  known  and  honored  by  scien- 
tific  men  the  world  over.  Farmer's  boy,  blacksmith  ap- 
prentice, ship-joiner,  carpenter,  self-supporting  through  a 
college  course ;  his  genius  interested  him  in  electricity, 
and  in  that  realm  his  Inventions  have  made  him  famoas. 
These,  with  his  organization  and  presidency  of  the  Con- 
gress of  Electricians  at  the  Columbian  Fair  of  1893,  and  his 
many  decorations  and  degrees,  conferred  at  home  and 
abroad,  all  stand  sponsors  for  his  fame. 

These  little  volumes  convey  scientific  truth  withont 
technical  terms,  and  are  enriched  with  reminiscence, 
anecdote,  and  reflections  that  allure  and  hold  the  interest. 

"  ITie  place  held  by  Elisha  Gray  in  the  scientific  world 
has  been  won  not  by  catering  to  the  applause  of  the  pub- 
lic, but  by  a  life  devoted  to  original  mvestigation  in  tm- 
trodden  fields.  "—CAtca^o  Times- Her  aid. 


Handy  Volumes,  4^  x  6^  ;  Cloth  ;  60  cents  pel  Volume. 


FORDS,   HOWARD,   &  HULBERT, 
47  East  loth  St.,  New  York. 


UCSB   LfBRARy 


